Two ducks waddled across our front yard the other day. Hadley and I both saw them, though Hadley saw them first and called me over and we pressed our foreheads to the window in the living room and watched them – the female stopped and looked around – at the hydrangeas, at the oak tree, at the divots in our lawn that squirrels made hiding whatever they hid in the winter. The male waited.
“Stay here,” I whispered. “I want to see the baby ducks.”
//
Sometimes we see a bird that, from the front is all robin, but its back and head look like they’ve been dipped in white out. He is on the golf course a lot. Harper spotted him first, and I admit, none of us believed her until we saw him for ourselves. Seeing him, I remembered that Harper is the only one in the family who finds four leaf clovers. She’s not even looking for them. It seems they come to her, and anyway it’s hard to trust the enchanted. I worry that after awhile, we make it difficult for those who lean toward enchantment to trust themselves.
//
Last week a dog was seen running around the golf course. Nobody claimed her, and even the cops came to see if they could help.
“We’re keeping an eye out for her,” Jesse told the cops one afternoon, “but she doesn’t want to get caught.”
//
Two pink tulips have bloomed in our backyard. They were not there last year, or any year since we’ve lived in this house. There are 11 days left in April, and we are supposed to get 2-3 inches of snow tonight. I’m worried about the ducks and the robin. I hope they’ve found shelter. I hope that, if the mama duck laid her eggs that she can keep them warm, but can she protect herself? Is she built for these kinds of storms?
//
I took a picture of the tulips because I don’t know if they’ll make it through the storm. If I knew a thing or two about tending to flowers, I’d do something more. Put a garbage bag over them? Maybe I should’ve picked them, brought them inside, and put them in a vase, but I keep thinking about Jesse’s comment about not wanting to be caught, so I’ve left them out there. Besides, I think flowers die the moment they’re plucked from their soil, and so I’m wondering what’s better – to die being beautiful or experiencing beauty? Or is it a mixture of both? Is it the reciprocity of experience and being?
Anyway, I took the picture. Maybe I’ll print it out and frame it – a reminder that this is a good place to live.
Leave a Reply