Shop With Amazon

Http:// is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to

Friday, June 29, 2012

Wildflowers in Spring: Harbingers of Summer

wild rose, Georgetown MA 2012
As we end the month of June, I'll offer you one more poem about nature. This one was written in the spring, scribbled into one of my notebooks many years ago. No doubt I sat out at the table in the back yard with a cup of true coffee ( in the years before diagnosis and decaf.)I would sit and keep still, and pretend I was 'communing' with nature: the birds' chatter seemed to speak to each other regardless of their differing feathers. Cardinals and finch arrive when the grackles have left the perches; sparrows and rock doves eat peacefully on the ground beneath the feeders, and chipmunks and squirrels( both of red and gray fur) occasionally try to shimmy up the pole to the suet cage hung for the woodpeckers and jays. And they all, as do I, appreciate the wildflowers that grace the borders of the lawn - plants that volunteer each year - plants sometimes sown by the birds themselves. Some folks would come through relentlessly with weed whackers, reclaiming their tidy borders, clearing away the natural growths to nurture instead high maintenance foreign beauties. Not me. 

Wild Woodland Phlox, Georgetown MA 2012

Despite my physical neglect, despite the unraked beds of fallen leaves and dried pine needles the wildflowers that brighten my surroundings come up through the debris and brighten my life. Asking nothing from me but appreciation and protection from man's implements, they also provide shelter for the wildlife in my yard. The small birds luxuriate in their soft branches between trips to the feeders nearby. The chipmunks and small red squirrels can hide from the hawks that circle above the area, and the cardinals and goldfinch can hide in the foliage until a clear ascent to the pines for their erratic, bobbing flight is opened, free of
Rick's bird feeders 2012
larger pigeons and crows blocking their way. The little ones take their turns hanging on the long feeders, and some brave the birdbath to quench their thirst. The young often stay in the wildflowers; their parents travel back and forth from the feeders to the bushes with seeds in their beaks. It is a wonderful scene of nature caring for nature.

Tall woodland phlox, spindly pink asters, waxen yellow buttercups, wild rose with pink buds and yellow centered white blossoms, lily of the valley that grows pink under the pines, and an occasional lady slipper or jack in the pulpit ... all of these have appeared in my surroundings. I'm happy to share my poem of them here, and photographs taken this year, many years after the poem was scribbled into that notebook, while sitting at that table:

wild asters, woodland phlox, buttercups, and unknown others, Georgetown, MA, early June 2012

by Terry Crawford Palardy

My yard is a haven for all things wild
What others call weeds I have loved since a child

The buttercups held underneath my small chin
Showed I loved butter, although then I was thin

The dandelions grow as they did way back then
Always turning to fluff to be puffed once again

Tiny spikes of pink asters stretch way up and over
The little round blossoms that cover the clover

The maple tree seeds that come spiraling down
Like a helicopter twirling before it finds ground

Whatever the wild green ground cover is called
It is rich and luxurious and need not be mowed.

To think that some kill these young innocent plants
Unable to see the wind's grace in their dance

What others called weeds I rename as wild flowers
I sit and admire for hours and hours.

Enhanced by Zemanta

No comments:

Post a Comment

Welcome! Thank you for reading here. I look forward to your comment!