Unbased First published on 08/19/2015
Little nature triumphs and tragedies.
Humming birds. Feeders out late April. A few early birds. A hole in middle of the summer when I didn’t see many. They’re back. Three feeders. Two at Big House and one at Doghouse. All busy now.
The other day I sorted tomatoes at the board outside Big House’s kitchen door. There’s a feeder in sight at breezeway entrance about thirty feet to my left and second feeder is out of sight around the corner, hanging from a porch rafter beside my big Mimosa tree. Little hummers flew steadily back and forth between feeders. I enjoyed their loud buzz as they passed.
One stopped. Mid trip. Hung on blurred wings right in my face. Nose to nose, a foot apart. Cute little bugger, but a thought about my eyes and that sharp beak. I jerked my head back and he flew away.
I’ve seen pictures of humming birds perched on folk’s fingers. Wonder how I could get one to do that. So small. I’d love to touch one.
That Mimosa is a puzzle. I think Pap and Mom moved it up here from Maryland when we came in 1949. Planted it near Southeast corner of Big House back porch. It grew sporadically for forty years. From a decent sapling it would die back to a sprout. Several times we thought it wouldn’t last until Spring, but it always came out.
Sometime in the 1990s Big House’s sewer line across the back yard went kapooey. In process of installing a new line, we cut too many roots on a big Bitternut Hickory about fifty feet North of Mimosa. First decent storm after the new pipeline brought Hickory crashing down, the top reaching out to break a branch off Mimosa and bend the trunk.
Mimosa began growing and hasn’t stopped. Spreading in all directions, I’ve begun pruning it back where it obstructs my view of bottomland pasture. Main trunk still leans South where Hickory pushed it down. Not a pretty tree when leaves are down, but wonderfully beautiful when in bloom. I’ve sat on back porch and watched a half dozen humming birds feeding on it’s flowers. I wish Pap could see it now.
In fact Mimosa leans toward rhubarb. A single plant is left from four I had growing several years ago. I quit eating rhubarb when diabetes suggested I cut back on sugar and mowed three plants to cut temptation.
I left one in memory of Pap’s efforts. He could never get rhubarb to grow in our garden. Planted roots several times and they all died out. He loved rhubarb and used to get some from cousin Polly Peer every year. Traded her sheep manure for red stalks. He’d gather and bag dried manure she preferred for fertilizing several plants she grew.
I tried planting roots too. No luck. Then I discovered rhubarb seeds in a catalog. Bought so I planted them. They grew nicely. I had good and plenty for a couple of years until those diabetes worries hit.
But, then I’ve failed with one of Pap’s successes between Mimosa and rhubarb. Grapes. Beautiful big purple “squeezy” grapes. Pull them off, pucker and squeeze them into my mouth. Sit on the back porch on a lazy evening and eat myself half sick with grapes. Loved them.
Old arbor was dilapidated. built a new one. Pig tight and bull strong. Seventy five feet long, six feet tall, four strands of high tensile wire. Grape vines hit running.
Haven’t had a grape to squeeze for at least five years. All dry up. Japanese beetles feast on the vines that I can’t keep enough bug spry on. Heck of a mess. Everything looked great starting out the year. Nice bunches of small green grapes, vigorous looking and then disaster. Grapes begin shriveling and drying. Leaves netted, a beetle feast. Nothing, think I need a grape doctor.
Triumphs and tragedies.
