angel petals and wings

I'm not much of a gardener. I like flowers but am not dedicated enough for the struggle to grow stuff at this elevation. After many years of trying, I gave up and now prefer to plant things in pots instead. This spring I just didn't seem to get it together. So today, in anticipation of my family arriving next week and wanting the upstairs deck (outside the kitchen) to look nice for my birthday dinner next week, I stopped off at Turquoise Teapot and asked Kathleen if there were any plants left. She walked me to a shady side garden and we filled a tray with zinnias, marigolds, petunias and pretty purple/white stalks whose name I can't remember except that the word angel was in it. I donned my straw hat and planted the flowers in empty terracotta pots that had been languishing on the deck since winter. I repotted the basil that had been growing in my kitchen, too, and added the smallest sprigs to the flowerpots.The moment I planted the red petunias, a hummingbird swooped by to check things out. I wonder if it was the hummingbird my husband rescued from the skylight in his studio. The tiny bird was desperately trying to find a way out - it saw light but no opening. My brilliant husband grabbed a cotton mop and thrust it up towards the bird. I was afraid it would be injured in its panic, but he assured me that he's rescued many birds from the studio through the years: "they seem to like coming in here", he added. Sure enough, the hummingbird grabbed onto the mop and we carried it outside. The moment it hit the outside air it flew high and out of sight. Many humane husband points accrued through this act.

Now, a few hours after the big gardening episode, it has rained gently upon the new plants and they already look happier and settled in. For me though, I have to clean up, change clothes and prepare a brief introduction of the new SOMOS anthology at the readings tonight at the Rane Gallery. It will be the first public launch of this year's edition and I hope the public likes it as much as we do.

opened window voices
on a late July afternoon
a man, birds, and soft rain