June 15

It is morning. Sky is gentle blue. Cooling winds blow away night’s heat when I walk into it. At the potted wild’s stalks and sprinkles of leaves continue to sprout. The signs of herbs or fruits are completely useless. I keep them there as if they are tombstones for tombstones. Earlier I kept them so I could identify one potted goody from the other. With the café’s guests moving bulbs and seeds and roots from pot to pot and pot to who knows where, anything could be growing. I’m just happy there is life.

At the café, the water bowl is baked dry. I picture it cracking when I fill it with water. It doesn’t. It holds all that I put in it. There is a thin layer of seeds in the food bowl and a thinner layer in the mini café. I fill both with more seeds and seeds and nuts and nuts. On the food tray I leave chopped apples. I imagine they are a delicious, sweet treat on these hotter than usual summer days. With each second I am out here, another bird seems to join the birds that are in nearby trees tweeting, chirping, croaking, whistling, waiting, waiting, waiting.

So as not to startle them, I talk to them from time to time. Their chirps remind me not to linger. Pheasant honks and I am tempted to go to my phone to see if the app has heard it but chirps are close and getting closer and hungry guests seem to be encouraging me to move as if my wings have purpose.

There is a chorus now. Nearby trees are aflutter with wings and chirps and rustling leaves as tiny birds hop from branch to branch to branch. Still, I stop by the potted wild to dribble water into potted plants and potted trees. I need a watering can to distribute the water more evenly so they don’t feel like they are under the faucet. So that I don’t nurture one trickle at a time. I’m thinking about this and about where I can buy a gardening can and what it might look like when I remember that I do have a spray bottle that I have not seen for quite a while. It isn’t near the wild and it isn’t near the café. I pop the top off of the cooler I have stopped using and there it is full and waiting.

Just a few squirts, a few moments more I tell the waiting guests. But, the water bottle has other ideas. It doesn’t work. I pull the trigger and nothing comes out. I can feel the pressure but it isn’t doing anything. The birds watch and wait. I unscrew the cap and notice there is just the one hole in it. It feels like such a waste at that moment but I could adjust it and turn a spray into a mist. Well, if it worked I could. Now that it’s off, I pump the trigger and water sort of oozes out a short stream at a time. I spray and spray while birds chirp and whistle and croak and honk and wait and wait and wait.

I imagine the plants’ relief at this drizzle of water on what will be another warm day. Later, I will buy a watering can or jug that works. I will have the right tool at the right time and give us all what we need.

Listen to this morning’s sounds below