Little Things Mean a Lot

My dad planted Rose’o’Sharon bushes all over The Compound. I’ve even found three purple ones just barely down the bank of the ravine. Rose’o’Sharons are not everybody’s idea of a good landscape bush. They drop those big juicy blossoms on the ground and make a mess. I didn’t enjoy them, either, until we moved here On the Ravine.

Dad brought sprouts with him from the farm, and with no particular plan in mind, tucked one here, one there, one everywhere. The one that made me fall in love with Althea, another name for Rose’o’Sharon is a soft, bridal pink that now stands as a ten-foot tree in the vegetable garden.

In The Study, Dad’s old digs in the ground level of the apartment now overhauled to suit me, a white Rose’o’Sharon fills the window with greenery and the occasional blossom with a deep red center sporting a white stem laden with pollen. Last year, I cut the bush down to the bottom of the window so I could look out on the shady private space on the side of the building. I planned for a future birdhouse, a couple of feeders, and plantings of native wildflowers.

The sweet little plant almost got a haircut again a few weeks ago (it had grown back the foot I lopped off last year), but my attention was drawn elsewhere, and Althea was left to try to catch up to the purple one and another white flanking it on either side.

For two weeks now, I’ve arrived at The Study by 6:30 A.M. I spend the first few minutes just sitting, letting thoughts wander through my mind and breathing with lazy rhythm while I gaze out the window. For the past three days, a hummingbird collecting from every blossom catches my eye. He only leaves the view momentarily to check the pollen supply on the larger bushes beside the window. When I settle in to the day’s work, he stays with me and the Rose’o’Sharon. I look up from time to time. I see him sipping and buzzing around when I leave The Study at about 9:00 each morning to attend to Mom’s morning activities.

It is a rainy afternoon today, I am writing this at almost 4:00 P.M., and here he is again! He provides a sense of calm for a while–again, even a sort of renewal, and then reminds me that it’s time to cook dinner. I say, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” turn off the monitor, and start toward the lift to the apartment.

He hovers to chatter at me before he darts away toward another feast.

I think he said, “None for me tonight, thank you. I’ve been eating all day!”

4 thoughts on “Little Things Mean a Lot

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.