When rain has hung the leaves with tears, I want you near to kill my fears To help me to leave all my blues behind For standin’ in your heart is where I want to be and long to be Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind
A small solar fountain, a plastic planter dish, and some clean water. I can’t remember if I got it for me, for the gentle watery sounds. Or if I got it for the birds.
But the little fountain definitely attracts birds. Robins especially, but the towhees too, catbirds, cardinals, and blue jays. Sometimes they perch nearby, or along the side of the dish, and they stare. As if they’re getting up the nerve.
Sometimes they fly toward the water. Then they retreat. Some never take the plunge…they just fly away.
But most eventually hop in and start splashing. They dunk, and splash, and flap, and they dunk and splash and flap. It goes on, and on.
Then they hop out, fly off to a branch, fluff, pick their feathers, dry their beak. Just when it seems they’re satisfied with the results, they fly back, hop in the water, and start the process all over again.
It looks like these trees and this brush are endless. Sometimes I feel that way too. But they’re not.
I was hunched over, trying to get a picture of the flowers and the green and a bit of the sunlight still coming through. It was getting close to eight, and there was a towhee doing what towhees always do at sundown. It was ‘drink your tea’ time. They sing those notes over and over, part of the evening ritual.
But this time there was music too. Human type music. Past all the green, up a hill, there was a house and the glow of flames in a fire pit, and somebody was out back. None of my business, but how could I not notice? He was playing folksy music, and it sounded so good I wanted to yell, “Hey, what’s that you’re playing?” Of course I didn’t. I thought it was somebody sitting by the firepit playing a guitar or banjo, and singing one of those folk songs that feel like springtime, and good times, and flowers in a field. Eventually I realized the music was too good, it must have been a recording.
I didn’t want to move on, but I started walking slowly along the path, around a bend, and the music playing behind me faded in the distance, past the trees.