This morning a group of tourists stopped by the cottage.
They were a noisy bunch,
Fluttering and chirping around the pokeberries
at the shrubby edge between
mowed and wild.
Binoculars missing from their usual spot,
I had to run around the cottage,
Fluttering and chirping,
To locate them
Hiding on a windowsill.
I didn’t take this photo: it’s from the Great Backyard Bird Count gallery. Click on the photo to see some great bird shots.
When I returned to the back porch,
there must have been twenty or more,
nervously flitting from berry to berry.
Cedar Waxwings
on their way to somewhere
stopping at our pokeberry bushes
for breakfast.
The click of the camera
frightened them
and they flew off,
tourists chattering
in an unknown beguiling language.
I took my seat reverently
in the wet grass of the leafy cathedral
and waited for their reappearance;
but their stomachs were filled with purple berries
and they were off in search of the next rest stop.
A golden aura of wonder and delight remained
In the silence of the morning
my prayer ascended in the bright sky:
Gratitude
for glimpses of the unordinary
in the ordinary.
And then the shy local fellow came into the shadows
to enjoy apples and stolen corn for
His breakfast.
Yes, it certainly is odd. One lone stalk bursting into five gorgeous icy pink lily-type flowers that circle the top. We had no idea how or why that one odd flower was growing in that one odd spot. But it made us laugh and take a picture of it.
Later I googled Naked Lady Lily — ahh, the small joys of the internet — and discovered that it is not, in fact, a lily. It is Amaryllis Belladonna, and the only true amaryllis. You know those giant flowers sold at Christmas time, under the Amaryllis name? Not. (For your gardening pleasure, they are technically named Hippeastrum.)
Apparently Clara’s Naked Lady doesn’t know that it is hardy only up to Zone 8, and up here in the frigid hinterlands of Zone 5, the bulbs have to be dug up in the fall and replanted in the spring. They look best planted with hostas, and they don’t mind a shady spot, though they prefer sun.
So now I have a quandary — should I just let it be and risk losing it? Should I dig it up and replant it in the spring with a few others? One website noted that they really don’t like being disturbed… The bulbs are 3 for $39.95! Gulp. No wonder Clara only had one! Maybe I’ll just plant some pretty hostas around it…
Fields of wildflowers smiling at the sun.
Sun rises early over the distant hill.
the circle of life 