I think in the short term the new garden area along the north fence is complete. I moved the bottle tree from its old spot behind the big oaks and the new gazebo to a spot by the young chinquapin. Now, when I look out the kitchen window I see a tableau. The bottle tree, the oak, an upright rosemary, a statue of St. Francis, a talavera pot, a metal buzzard, a yellow bells, a sage, and gregg’s mist flower. The living and the inanimate.

I turned my bird bath into a bird feeder. It was an accident. The bird bath dried up and I watched a little finch land in it and start picking at whatever was lying about. I had some extra bird seed left, so I took it out and poured it into the dry bird bath. Here they came, the avian dinosaurs. A summer tanager. A cardinal. A house finch. They landed. They ate. They left. I’m going grocery shopping today. I think I’ll pick up an inexpensive bag of feed and see what happens.

I made a mistake. I started a new garden. Stopped. Changed direction. Here was the mistake. Rather than continuing to dig up grass and turn dirt I decided to put down landscape material. I have no idea why I thought that was a good idea. But I did. Hauled in mulch. It looked nice for about three months. Then the bermuda grass did what bermuda grass does. It grew. Through the landscape cloth, over the cloth, and in the cloth.

There are ups and down to living at the urban/country interface. Deer are the best downside example. Luckily, there’s enough country around me that the woods offer better habitat than my yard. Scorpions are another. Found one in the kitchen this morning. I took it back outside. Mostly I find their desiccated bodies in the house. There’s no water and little food. Once upon a time we had a pest control service spray the outside of the house, but stopped because of the dog.

It’s a summer morning in May. We touched 100 yesterday, and you can feel yesterday’s heat this morning. Still, there’s a special pleasure to be found in an early morning walk around the yard, feeding the cats, feeling the breeze, and looking at the plants. The Crape Myrtles, for instance, are getting ready to bloom and we have a fair collection of them around the place.

Stood outside last night in the light of the full moon. A glorious sight. The pasture was calm and well lit. I thought of our ancestors as they walked the savannah on such a night. Or did they walk at all because it exposed them to predators. And what did they think of that dim bright light in the night sky, so different from the sun, yet still a source of light in a time of darkness. A mystery to them for sure.

We appear to be down one cat. One of the feral kittens has disappeared, although she’s old enough by now to no longer truly qualify for that appellation. It’s just that her mother is still here and I call her momma cat, thus her kittens are still kittens. Everyone was fixed early on, so it’s unlikely to be for reasons of love. And food is always plentiful, so I doubt she wandered off looking for better lodging. I guess it will just be a mystery as to where she went. I do hope she’s in good health, but it’s unlikely we’ll ever know the story. And that’s the way of the country.

Fed the cats this morning and on my way back into the house found a Walnut Sphinx Moth hanging on the screen. What a nice set of wings. Swept back. Ornate. Didn’t seem to be the type of guy to flutter aimlessly around a lit light bulb. It disappeared at first light, or so I imagined. I wasn’t there when it left. I’m not sure what it will eat around here, we don’t have many trees it might like. I guess the little cherry tree might be considered a nut tree. We’ll have to see.

One of my gardens is freshly planted and the others are more established. In the established area beneath the big oaks, the vegetation is so thick it’s difficult to walk and I’ve given up going in after unwanted plant species. Mostly I work around the edges until the edges get established and I move the border. Occasionally, I move a plant from shade to sun as the border moves. I did that last year with two salvia greggi. They’re now flourishing.

In the time of blooming things, spring, I like blooming trees. The orchid tree is covered in white flowers as was the sandpaper tree (Ehretia anacua) early on. Now it’s the time of the golden leadball (Leucaena retusa). The latter has had a bit of a hard life in our yard. A young buck took a fancy to it early on, and wiped his velvet with it. Then the hard winds blew and thin limbs broke. But it survives, fenced, and now blooming, it’s bright yellow offerings.

Yesterday I met a fox. He walked right up the driveway like he was heading to the cat food for a snack. I spoke to him. He stopped and listened, then continued on his way. He seemed relatively unperturbed that I was out there. I followed him for a bit as he walked around the pool, sniffing as he went. Every once in a while he stopped and looked at me, but he never got in a hurry. He just went on about his business.

I’ve had a good spring in the gardens and around the house. To prove it, I can barely lift my left arm. Now, it might be that I slept on it wrong, but it’s more likely something happened during a mulch bag lift or a turning fork throw as I dug up coastal bermuda. I  don’t know. But there it is. I went to use it the other day and it was painful. I think it’s a sign I need to slow down. Which is okay, because I’m a fan of slow, especially these days, my days of elderliness.

I took down my bird feeder. It went from being a high end place for titmouses, wrens, cardinals, and the occasional painted bunting, to being a dive bar for sparrows with raucous comings and goings and food on the floor. I’m going to investigate other options, but for now I want peace on the porch. I’m leaving the bird bath, because everyone needs a drink and a good dousing and it’s fun to watch the birds flop around in the water, and I imagine it will be ever more popular as the summer wears on. I’ll be back with food but I just need to find the right feeder style.

It’s a lovely day in the neighborhood. It was windy yesterday and not so lovely. But it’s still now, and cool and that feels good. Springlike. Our need for rain continues, but I am beginning to despair. We have the month of May and most of June before the official start of summer. I’m afraid, however, we’re going to be in for a goodly stretch of hot and dry with only occasional showers. We need a monsoon.

I live in a small town. And you would think it quiet. But it’s not. A major highway runs through my town. It is nearby. About 325 feet at its closest point.  And we live between two major cities and places where those people want to go. Their tires and big trucks make a lot of noise. It’s mostly quiet at night, but it starts to hum at first light. One upshot, and this is something of a positive, is the bird song is loud because they have to compete with the cars, and we have plenty of birds.

Big day, today. My brush pile is going away. Unfortunately, it is probably home to critters. I guess you might consider this a version of gentrification. We own the land and would like to use it as something other than a home for mice, snakes, scorpions, and whatever else might find a big brush pile an appealing place to live. It will be interesting to see what departs. Of course, whatever leaves also might be too small for us to notice, but that’s just the way of the world.

Anatomy of rain on a metal roof. I’ve had two styles of metal roof while living in the Hill Country. My first roof was screw-down panels, a fairly typical old style roof. It was replaced recently by a standing seam roof with no exposed screws. Falling rain sounds essentially the same on both styles, a lovely patter of falling water on tin. The difference slips in when the rain is soft and the water gathers on the roof before sliding to the ground.

I’m in a tiny, personal groove. I cleaned my gutters yesterday, and put plants in the ground. It rained last night, right on cue. My rain barrels are full, and the new plants got a good soaking. More rain is promised, and as a bonus, it’s cool outside. For the plant fans, the new additions are Gregg’s Mist Flower, Catmint Walkers Low, and Upright Rosemary. All have proven to do well in my soil so I decided to add a few more.

I’m about 25% through the job of stripping the landscape cloth out of the new north garden. It’s harder than it might seem. First of all, most of the old mulch is still sitting there. Secondly, the material is now tied to the ground by coastal bermuda grass which has deep roots and strong runners. Finally, grass has grown through the material and holds the mulch in place. So, even when it’s finally pulled up there’s lots of weight.

I am in the home stretch of my spring fling of gardening. Beds are mulched. Weeds are pulled. Plants are in the ground. Everything that should be green is green. Yesterday and the day before we got more than an inch of rain, and more is scheduled today. And it’s the best sort of rain. Slow and steady.  Grasses are growing, the trees are replacing depleted stores, and the ground is softening, which is more good news for me, because I still have a few spots that need cleaning and repair.