I have just come in from wandering around my garden. It is only about 6:10am and the shadows of night are still slowly receding. If you are wondering why, or what I am doing at this seemingly insane time of the morning, I’m willing to tell you whether you care to listen or not. Believe or not. Or give a hoot or not. This was always a fun, pleasant and interesting time for the Little Lady and me. It was a time of quality, unknown to most, which we both enjoyed, and is tucked now among the many memories that I cherish.
I’m an early riser. Along about 5am, I wake to the sound of crowing from my self-winding alarm clocks, which are housed, fed and cared for in a well-insulated small shed that proves to be almost soundproof if the winter door is kept closed. The reason I can hear them within the thick stone walls of the vine-covered cottage in which I live is the fact that I have placed the receiver of a baby monitor tucked under the eve of said shed.
The other end of that monitor, which hangs in a tiny cage that dangles from my kitchen ceiling, brags of multi-purpose. It not only allows me to wake to the pleasant sound of my rural route roots, but it also keeps me in tune with who, what and when that is going on in the general whereabouts of my back yard. Just prior to the disappearing dusk of dawn, I hear the first warbled song of the robin, then follows the cardinal’s call, the scolding call of the blue jay, the geese flying over, as well as the haw-haw-haw of the crow who perches, well hidden, in the heavily foliaged widely spread arms of the giant old heritage maple each morning as he laughs at the awakening world and its sleepy-eyed people.
The shed is lit by lights on timers that correspond with the extended hours of light that are necessary in order to breed, successfully, canaries that I have individually paired in breeding cages on my broad and deep stone wall indoor windowsills. So it is not unusual for me to wake to the sound of canaries singing in full song, which is much more pleasant than the metallic sleep-shattering scream of a seemingly insane alarm clock.
Often during late spring, summer and early fall, the Little Lady and I would early morning wander, loosely housecoat-clad and barefoot, through our garden. It was then, during that early morning interval of no wind that we could sense the odours of new growth. The scents of grass and soils, the smells of each individual dewdrop-christened flower.
It was then that we felt a deep appreciation of the gifts of Mother Nature, the hand of God, the marvels of the unseen Creator. The whoever, whatever, the however. It was then that we felt the full love and pure joy of just being alive.
Whether it be the rainbow glitter of a dewdrop-laden spider’s intricate web, the sparkle of a single light reflection from a flower-tipped raindrop, the love song of a creaking cricket, the whirring hum of a nectar-seeking, hungry hummingbird, or the buzz of a grumbling bumblebee trying to negotiate the forth and back pollen-laden trip in the deep throat of a trumpet flower. These always brought a smile to her face, a beckoning finger and a whispered, come here, see this, to her lips. These simple, yet exceedingly intricate interesting gifts that make up the tangled web of Nature pleased her greatly.
Our garden is, was and always will be a pesticide-free garden. It is where we grow much of the food that we eat at our table. The insects are controlled by a trio of bantams that we let roam free for about one hour just before sundown. When bedtime approaches, before dusk settles in, they scamper back to the shed on their own to roost in familiar safe and protected territory.
By the way, folks, I hope you have marked your calendar ’cause next weekend, on July 4 from 10am till 4pm, I’ll be at Roxanne’s Book and Card Shop on the Main Street of Fergus. We will be launching my fourth book, which is the third of Bits & Pieces. Each book contains 200 easy-to-read articles and is a valuable keepsake of historical memories. If you buy all three, to celebrate my 25th year of writing for the Wellington Advertiser, you will get my first book, Niska, Niska, Niska, a $20 value, absolutely free.
And mark your calendar, for I’ll also be at the Elora Centre for the Arts for the Art In the Yard on July 11 and 12 from 10am to 5pm each day.
Take care, ’cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-843-4544