Monday, July 25, 2016

The Birdhouse

Between the house and the vegetable garden was the old farmer's wife's flower garden.
There was a  long winding path between two rows of beds.
Beyond that was a long straight row with roses, interspaces with tulips
 and some easter lilies.

 
Each spring the old farmer's wife would spend several days preparing
the flower garden for the coming summer.
The edges of the beds were dug out to make clean edges, weeds were pulled,
clumps of flowers separated if necessary.
There were irises, lilies of the valley, mums, zinnias, poppies, and a clump of chives.
Each easter we had a new easter lily and it was planted along the row of roses
 to come up each year thereafter.

 
Remember the story about insect collecting a few weeks back?
In this story the butterfly net comes into play in a bit different a fashion.
About midway in the flower garden was a mound covered with sweet peas
 and a bird house on a pole in the middle of it.

 
Each year it was inhabited by a little wren who raised her family there.
A cousin and the old farmers daughter, ahem, wanted to catch the wren.
One of us would hold the net in front of the birdhouse and the other would SMACK the backside and out would shoot the bird! Right into the net.
We would reach in and pull her out. 
My cousin remembers we put it in a bird cage on the porch by the kitchen door. 
The bird flew out an opening in the cage that was designed to hold the food dish. 
My older brother and older cousin were playing catch in the front yard
and remarked on the terrified bird that went streaking past them like a bat out of hell.  
Since the birdcage was a failure we repeated the catch and release scenario many times and the bird always shot out into the net on cue. It seemed like great fun at the time.
Until the old farmer's wife caught us.... Uh OH!





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5 comments:

Todd Mains said...

Do people still play catch? I haven't seen anybody play catch in a long time.

Jens Mains said...

Yes, a shame, isn't it? And croquet too...

Eldon Mains said...

Sad but true. It seems like one of those things that has just disappeared. Used to love to play catch.

joseG said...

Yes, we do....but we are almost all in our fifties or sixties.....so the running and shouting is not what it used to be anymore...
Younger generations play catch porkemons with their phones or tablets....
I used to do some radical sports: stair surfing!!! We had some big stairs in the backside where I used to live, and we decided to start running down on wooden boards, or old doors...whatever available...I like "good stuuf" so I got an old ironing board, put some foam I stole from a old pillow to cushion my butt, a place to steady my feet...and greased the underside. Next day I came with my new shinning stair-riding board...of course I received much compliments and someone said: "cool, can I try it" I'm not dumb, so I said yes! As soon as he started going down it came to my mind I might have put too much grease... the speed was jawdropping...and the screams and the blood-spill when he reached the asphalt and the board stopped (but not him) were beyond imagination I think all the skin he had on arms, knees, back...had vanished...I spent 2 days stealing cement powder to apply to the board to absorb the grease before trying it myself...
Do young people enjoy that much with their playsations.... Naaaa!!!!

Jens Mains said...

Stair surfing! That is so rad Jose. Oh no! Grease, giggle. Yes, we used our imaginations : )