Blogging from A to Z April 2024 Challenge: V

Aging: The Good, the Bad, and the Tolerable

V is for Vegetation

Even though I’ve been retired over 20 years, I still appreciate my lazy mornings. There are two brief time periods between the frost of winter and heat of summer when I can sit outside on the screened porch, my feet up on an ottoman, reading the news on my computer, a cup of black coffee on the side table by my wicker chair. Outside, the vegetation on the patch of earth at the back and side of our townhouse entertains me with pleasant distractions.

Earlier in the month, our homeowner’s association took down three large pine trees that had gown taller than the roof and impeded us from opening the door to the screened porch. Before they were removed, their massive size provided a landing perch for what seemed like a heavy bird or UFO. That sunny morning, I felt the trees rustle and porch shake. A few moments of quiet passed while I contemplated what it could be. Then, whatever it was rustled the trees and shook the porch again as it flew away. I couldn’t see what it was.

My neighbor told me she saw an eagle that day. A nest had been spotted in a near-by park. I wished I had stepped outside to catch a close glimpse. My neighbor was grateful that after the eagle sighting, her favorite little rabbit came back for his meal of carrots and apples that she tosses on the grass from her side door every evening.

Recently, I planted red petunias in the boxes on the fence to attract hummingbirds. We put out a feeder in April in anticipation of the young male hummers who are first to make the long track from Mexico to our backyard. It’s not until May that we see the females visit our feeder, too.

The one tree we have in the back is a fruitless plum tree. Too far away to give us shade in the summer but close enough for us to watch the various birds dart in and out of its branches. Besides the usual cardinals, mourning doves, and sparrows, occasionally we have a strange bird who will only show up once. On a table in our living room, we keep a book: Birds of the Carolinas Field Guide that we bought the year we moved to North Carolina in 2000.  

I grew up in Jersey City, NJ. The only vegetation on the whole block was a single tree in the front of our apartment building. I can’t remember if it even had leaves. A small patch of dirt surrounded by boxwood bushes was off to the side of the entrance of the building. Joey, the landlords’ youngest son and my playmate, and I, once planted a rose bush. I don’t know why the florist, who had a shop around the corner, gave it to us. It bloomed in the city soot every year before both the tree and patch of dirt with the boxwood bushes were pulled up and covered in concrete.

The bit of vegetation surrounding our town house, to me, is a source of delight.