Week 15: A nature journal

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Today, I worked in the garden. I transferred composted leaves and dug them into the soil. I saw so many worms and remember the first garden here and the absence of worms. I am getting organic matter built in. The worms enjoyed the moist pile of leaves, with a fresh and ready stash of food for them.

The hermit thrush continued to sing as I worked in the garden. It is somewhere off in the woods and I have yet to see it, even though I stop my work and go looking. I didn’t have the binoculars, which might have helped. It is easier to look for the birds while the leaves are still small. In a few more weeks it will be much harder. It has such a vivid song. It trills upward and then descends like a waterfall or a chime that hangs under a rain gutter. Every time I hear it, I feel a quickening in my heart, and a surety of peace beyond this tormented human existence.

After turning the soil, I was hot and since it is May first, I decided to do my semi- traditional May Day dip in the river. Today, I went to the swimming hole by the house. I haven’t yet put the steps down the slope, so I slid down the bank. I hope that I didn’t disturb too much soil, or the moss that is growing there. I took off my clothes and sat on the edge of the rock where the water is about two feet deep. The water was frigid, but the sun was warm. I lay on the rock and closed my eyes. The chill from the water lowered my temperature enough so the black flies were fooled, and I rested undisturbed. I heard an unusual sound and looked up. There about five feet from me was a turtle, it had decided to take advantage of the warm sun on the rock, too. We stared at each other, the turtle and I. We were both motionless, he (or she) trying to blend into the rock, I trying to pretend I was a beached log. Unfortunately, my temperature had risen and the flies discovered some warm human blood. They got the best of me, I swatted and the turtle took flight through the water. The underside of its neck and legs was a vivid orange red, but the top of its shell was a drab and muddy gray. It was a good thing that I watched its descent into the water. It nestled into some rocks and soon could not be distinguished from its hiding place. I possessively think of this as my swimming hole, but it isn’t mine at all. I decided it was time for me to leave and let the turtle have its turn on the rock.