Forsythia & 'oles

dusk sit.

forsythia is pushing out tiny yellow spears.

spent much of the day outside with the boy, letting the sun sink into our skin. he sat bare-bottomed and bare-footed on the grass, kicking and looking around and chortling. then, laying on his back, the movement of the branches in the breeze caught his eye, and they were gathered in to his collection of interests. the birds called.

cleared the leaf mulch from the strawberry beds, weeded the rest of the gil-over-the-ground from two beds and planted peas and mustard greens in them. broke and removed the stalks of yarrow, oregano, echinacea from the perennial bed in the garden, and pulled up the borage stalks from beneath last year's pole beans.

pansies, strawberries, yarrow, and garlic are the only current livelies in the garden. i remember, from memories of pictures, how full and green the garden grows by late summer. now it is flat and brown, just tiny hints of green here and there. moles or voles ('oles?) were industrious in the garden over the winter, building tunnels all throughout the beds. the multitude of worms and grubs below the mulch tell of their meals.

visited our sit pine as the sun set. the light played on an old branch hanging low where we stood. it was like a story of the old days: brown, dry, stable.

great blue heron flew home over us at dusk.