As I continue with the designated tasks for my 7-day days-of-the-week marathon, today (Wednesday) is "Gardening or Sewing Day". I began the day by taming my unruly honeysuckle vine. It had begun to grow willy-nilly in a free spirited sort of way, so I gently redirected its vines to allow its free spirit to flourish but with more support from the arbor. Framed by the arbor's arch is an old-time gas pump and an original Standard Service sign that sits in front of the "three marigolds and one other flower" cabin's front porch. The gas pump was manufactured in 1950 with a frozen-in-time price of $0.31 per gallon displayed behind the little glass windows on its front and rear.
"I meant to do my work today, but a brown bird sang in the apple tree." I don't know what wise soul wrote this message, but I am making an attempt to incorporate its meaning into my daily life with a renewed fervor. I was blessed with a nudge in that direction when I was outside shooting the arbor photo. An oriole sat in a branch, high above, peering down at me. It wasn't a brown bird and it wasn't in an apple tree but, nevertheless, it caused me to rethink my morning... at least for a time. (After reading this post, my friend Pat supplied me with the "I Meant To Do My Work Today" poem by Richard Le Gallienne in its entirety.)
I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand--
So what could I do but laugh and go?
Dick and I put our goals for the day on hold and took a walk down a wooded trail to a wetlands area on our property which I have grown to love over the years because of its expanse of solitude "interrupted" only by the sounds of nature. Each spring, a pair of geese return to lay eggs and raise their goslings on an island near where our canoes rest on the bank. Just prior to shooting this photo, mama had her tail end facing us. As she rose up to turn herself around in the nest, three fluffy goslings squirmed out from under her wings. One took a tumble into the water's edge but quickly made it back to the safety and cozy warmth of mama once again.
Dick tucked pruning shears into his pocket in case we spied some pussy willows. We discovered the buds had already burst forth into leaves but what we found was just as pretty. One branch has a dark burgundy-colored stem and the other branch has grey pinecone-looking balls on it. What a beautiful bouquet it made for our porch table!