When the snow was still on the ground this spring and puddles of water threatened to turn our backyard into a marsh, I wandered outside in my boots to tackle a little project I’d been putting off for years.
A pile of soil in the yard, left over from the excavating that was done when our new shed was built, needed to be finally taken down and distributed in various flowers beds around our lot.
This I accomplished by chopping away at the “mountain” every day and wheeling five wheelbarrows full of dirt around the yard. After five loads of dirt, I’d quit and move onto other things.
People have laughed at my approach to my various household enterprises – for example, I clean one window in the house per day, and then quit till the next day – but I’ve discovered that by doing this, just as the turtle defeated the hare, I accomplish more in the long run, I don’t get sick of a task so easily, and I do a better overall job.
This method of mountain removal also gave me a bit of time to think, along with regular exercise. And I also discovered a few things I didn’t know.
For one, bumble bees were hibernating deep down in the soil of the hill I was taking down. My shovel uncovered little nest after nest (or whatever they’re called) and out would tumble very dopey, and no doubt surprised, bees. I hated to interrupt their long slumber party, but I had to get on with things.
I am still scratching my head wondering how these fragile little beings managed to burrow themselves so deeply into the soil. Or were they hatched from eggs in there?
The other surprise came in the form of a sprightly young robin, which became my pal for the next few months. We discovered each other first when I was removing a kids’ sandbox, uncovering juicy, appetizing earthworms in the process.
The robin had a picnic that first day and for the rest of the summer, whenever I was out in the yard, I could count on a visit from the bird, especially when I was digging up the mountain and uncovering more worms.
And even later, when I had planted a big patch of grass and was watering it with a sprinkler, the robin showed up to sit under the shower and take regular baths.
I know I shouldn’t do others’ thinking for them, not even for birds, but this little guy must have thought I was just about the best human being on earth, supplying, as I was, practically all of his needs.
As the days stretched on, the bird became more and more comfortable with me, and would inch fairly close to me. If I moved his way, he would do a little dance away, but not in any panic.
And when I turned, he would come back again.
But he was a greedy little lad, showing up alone on every occasion but two or three when I think he brought a girlfriend along. It was as though he didn’t want anyone else knowing about this secret Shangri-La on Albert Street that he’d found.
A couple of weeks ago, my buddy wandered away and I don’t know where’s he’s gone. South, maybe. To tell you the truth, I was kind of missing his comforting presence until last weekend when a replacement showed up to supervise my building of a clubhouse for my son.
Taking a break on Saturday, I sat in a lawnchair, admiring our work and trying to enjoy some pop and chips which is required carpenter fuel. A bee started a bit of a dive-bomb exercise, making relaxing almost impossible. At one point, I looked over to see him crawling out of my pop can.
I don’t like bees but this one’s been hanging around me ever since and he seems benign enough. But there is one thing that appears to get him riled up and that is the sound of my sawing lumber. He buzzes all around my hand as I try to do my job, as though to stop me.
Or maybe he’s still ticked off about that mountain thing, when I dug up his friends and family.
©2007 Jim Hagarty
