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It’s December 27th.This morning I opened the garage door and stepped out into a gentle snow to scoop up today's Seattle Times. Later, I went home for lunch and this is what I observed. In my pantry, leftover from Thanksgiving mashed potatoes, is a partial bag of sprouting Yukon Golds. I think tonight I will prepare them for planting.
Robins, lots of robins; happily – allied with an army of chickadees and juncos, amid a smattering of maple leaves that escaped the rake and have not yet begun to decompose, and at no charge to me for their service – engaged in the task of ridding my lawn of crane fly larvae.
Surrounding two segments of grass separated by a flagstone path, the smaller one elevated, are 8” daffodil stalks scattered beneath rhododendrons and camellias pregnant with fresh, plump buds.
The deciduous Japanese red-leaf maple, which goes completely bare each year, is just beginning to shed it’s withered leaves.
It’s December 27th.
