Swan Sanctuary

I was born with a natural aesthetic sense and a predisposition to order and cleanliness. Curb appeal is something that is vastly important to me. I want the front of my home to look inviting and welcoming. A beautiful entrance that is eye catching is rare, except in finer neighborhoods where owners can afford landscapers to create an appealing scene. Unfortunately, most of the homes in this town fall between appearing lackluster, to being down right eyesores. 

When I moved into my home in January, the front entrance was quite literally, a mud puddle. I had to throw down cardboard over it so that I could  move in. The front porch is in a sad state of disrepair with rotting wood and a wobbly stair railing. Half of the porch is covered in ugly carpet squares that are impossible to sweep. The other half is caving in, most likely from water damage.The gutters have not been cleaned so whenever it rains here, water spills over. I capture what I can in buckets for now and I hope to install a rain barrel at some point. A white plastic lattice has been hung on one end of the porch, which continually bangs back and forth in the wind. A disintegrating bamboo shade had been attached to the lattice making it even uglier. I removed it and buried it at the bottom of one of my hügelkultur beds. Eventually, I will remove the lattice so it can be used as a partition between the chicken coop area and my potting shed.

There was a gigantic tractor tire in my yard that had been filled with sand, as a sandbox for the previous occupant’s sons. I doubt it was used very much as the rubber becomes very hot under the summer sun. I am sure they were either unaware, or simply did not care that the rubber was also toxic and most likely leached into the soil. I removed the sand bucketful by bucketful, to fill the gaping hole leading to my front door. After it was empty, the landlord, thankfully, removed it – but only as far as behind the shed. There was also a defunct dishwasher sitting on the front porch and a useless swamp cooler outside between the two sheds. Piles of old wooden boards and trash were strewn about the property. The part of the yard for which I am responsible consists of an area approximately 30 feet by 40 feet enclosed with chain link fencing. Other than the tire, the only thing growing in the space was a monoculture of grass dotted heavily with weeds and paths etched by the previous canine occupant. The broken appliances remained through the winter, but thankfully, the landlord eventually removed them – all except for the tire which still sits behind the shed.

The remaining property is surrounded by  four mature trees that are it’s only saving grace, other than a shrub that is squeezed between the carport and the shed, and a pathetic elm that is planted too close to the shed, but is serving as a trellis for the trumpet vine.The only other permanent plantings are a few groups of lovely iris.The landlord cuts and waters the lawn under the trees and surrounding property so I have been able to concentrate on creating a floral feast of bird and butterfly habitat within my modest fenced in area. There were several grey slate rocks propped up against the trailer skirting, which I have placed between the front steps and the driveway, along with free mulch from the landfill. Little by little, I am doing what I can with available materials to generate some curb appeal. I cannot do much about the state of the front porch except to camouflage it with flowers. I am simply grateful to have a front porch to sit on, where I can enjoy the birds, and the breeze which provides relief from the oppressive heat.

I recently received a message from the state of Wyoming, where I am currently living, that they are closing most of the rest stops along the major highways due to COVID19. When will all of this insanity stop? I literally cannot make the three hour trip between here and Denver (where two of my daughters live) without needing to stop and use the restroom. In fact, if I have that second cup of coffee in the morning, I cannot even make the one hour trek to Cheyenne, without stopping in Chugwater to use the facilities.

Clearly, closing the rest stops will create a bigger problem for women than it does for men and no doubt, it was men who came up with this preposterous idea to save the state money. Closing down the recycle center and the restroom facilities is pure idiocy! So is wearing masks, but let’s not go there. 

I recall travelling with my parents and siblings when I was just a girl, long before the interstates and the convenient rest stops were in place. Gas stations were few and far between and many of them did not provide public restrooms. If they did provide them, in many cases you were allowed to use them only if you were a paying customer. I have painful memories of several occasions when I was in pure agony, waiting for my stepfather to find a place where we could stop. I often had to “hold it” for miles and when we finally reached a bathroom, I had difficulty emptying my bladder. 

Shouldn’t the ability to take care of one of our most natural needs be a priority? I have often wished that I was a bird or a chicken because they just go when they need to. They do not require a special location and they have no inhibitions about such matters.The human race has so often lost sight of our most basic needs based on what is considered proper or acceptable, and even what is considered profitable. Isn’t it time for the majority to stop being door mats for the controlling 1% of the population and to demand that they begin acting for the benefit of all?

The human race has created some pretty miraculous and beautiful things in our reign here on planet earth. We have beautiful architecture, bright fabrics and clothes for every season, imaginative shoes and boots, exquisite art, detailed and functional furniture, and an array of foods to tease our appetites. We live in a bountiful world where our creativity can be put to use in so many ways. But, everything that we create comes from materials provided by our planet. I say that I am creating a garden, but in truth, I am only creating the space and providing the nutrients for the soil, the seeds, and the plants to grow. I have not created the marigolds or the zinnias. I cannot take credit for the tomatoes, the cucumbers, or the beans. I must give credit where credit is due. I am simply a middleman, a laborer, and a caretaker. The creation of my garden design also did not come from me. It is but inspiration that comes to me and from which I take direction.

Last night we were gifted with a gentle rain that lasted for a couple of hours. This morning the freshness in the air is pure. We can filter our water and enhance it, but we can never do so as perfectly or as easily as nature herself. Our plants grow stronger when given rainwater instead of tap water. We can continue to make things, many that are quite impressive and handsome; but nothing that we bring forth from our own hands can compare to the natural beauty and perfection of life itself. The crisp smell of clean air, the cool taste of fresh water, the petals on a flower, the breathtaking moment of birth – either live or from an egg – and the perfection of a newborn, are things we can only witness. It is foolishness to think that we can improve on Mother Nature. Mother knows best and nothing we do can even begin to compare with the natural beauty that surrounds us in this place we call home.

The goldfinches disappeared from my feeders a few weeks ago. This is because they have gone away to nest, which they do somewhat later than most birds. There are also more natural food sources available to them as summer gains its hold. Nyjer is their preferred seed, but they will not eat seed that is old or has become moldy, so I have learned to purchase it in smaller batches to ensure that it is fresh. One of their favorite foods is thistle, which we regard as a weed; but they also use the down from the seedpods to cushion their nests. Since I do not have thistle growing anywhere near my property, I will probably not be seeing the goldfinches until the parents bring their fledglings around to the feeders.

The American Goldfinch is sometimes referred to as a wild canary. Its brilliant yellow, combined with its melodic song, make it a welcome visitor for many. Who could not be cheered up by such a delightful bird? In a few weeks’ time many of my flowers will be in bloom and forming an abundance of seeds. At that time, I hope to see the goldfinches return.

In the meantime, I am enjoying the house finches – especially the males with their bright red plumage. I will continue to use the natural materials that are available, as well as repurposing things that I already have, to add to the habitat I am creating. I have an old muffin tin that I can erect as a feeding table, filling each cup with seeds. I may add another birdbath because water is precious and rare in these dry, hot summers. The basic design of my garden is nearly finished, but I will be adding shrubs and trees to make it more bird friendly. I am grateful to have this space and grateful for the opportunity to make the lives of my feathered friends a little easier.

Rationality flies out the window for a lot of people whenever they have an unpleasant belief system about someone or something. They justify their actions based on something they have heard or have experienced, and often on bias and ignorance, rather than on simple inquisitiveness, openness, and intuition. I had an interesting interaction the other day when the man who is supposed to do the remodeling on my existing shed, to transform it into half chicken coop and half potting shed. As we walked past my chickens that were in the temporary pen I had set up, I was explaining to him that I had needed to make sure it was predator-proof because a neighboring cat was coming over to inspect them. He replied that I could trap the cat. I told him that the cat belonged to my neighbors across the alley, but he reiterated that I could trap it and take it to the shelter. I simply said that I did not mind the cat – I just did not want it to get to my chickens. Clearly this man does not like cats, which I have found to be a common trait among men with inflated egos. It is actually a very sweet cat and looks to be still a kitten. It comes over and meows at me, I think because he wants my cat to come out and play. Its owners have a very small dog and one day I watched the dog and the cat playing together in their yard. It was adorable.

At the end of the man’s short visit, he told me that he would bring something to “take care of” the very large red ant pile next to my gate. I said, “No, no. They are decomposers. They are very important so I want to leave them there.” He went on to tell me about a little girl that had been bitten by ants all the way up her leg. I only said that I knew where the ant house was and always made a point to go around it. I have diatomaceous earth, which I could use, but that would kill them. They are not bothering me and I leave them alone.

A few months ago I had numerous black ants appearing in my kitchen. Whenever I saw one I would trap it in a jar and put it outside through the cat door.  My intuition told me that if I waited it out, they would all find their way out on their own, as they were just waking up from their winter hibernation. There seemed to be quite a lot of them and just when I was getting to the point of ordering an herbal repellant, they disappeared. My intuition was right and I am glad that I did not waste the $30 on the repellant.

I have an irrational fear of large spiders, but I no longer act irrationally towards them. They are my allies in the garden and I respect them and appreciate them for that. I have learned in fact, that some spiders are really our best friends. The medium sized black jumping spiders do us a great service by eating houseflies, which carry germs. I choose not to allow my own fears, phobias, or dislikes to cause me to act irrationally towards other species. Everything has a purpose. Everything has a right to exist. Will humans ever learn to co-exist?

It is early yet, but I hope that the habitat I am creating will soon lure butterflies to my yard. I have already seen what I believe to have been a Meadow Fritillary. About a week ago I saw my first Swallowtail of the season sipping at the iris; and yesterday I saw what may have been a Great Spangled Fritillary. Butterfly identification is difficult because the differences can be very subtle. I believe butterfly ID is much more difficult than bird identification, especially since they rarely stay put in one place for more than a few seconds. I am further challenged by the fact that there are different species here in Wyoming than those I was accustomed to seeing in Virginia.

The less desirable Cabbage White butterflies, so named because they feed on cabbages, mustards, and those plants of the Brassica family, have unfortunately been abundant in my garden already. The Cabbage White is a troublesome species because it eats those plants that we are trying to grow in our gardens. They are easy to identify by the black dots towards the tips of their wings (two dots for females and one dot for males). However they can be confused with the Veined White butterfly, which is slightly smaller. Most birds find the Cabbage Whites unpalatable, but House sparrows and Goldfinches are known to eat them. I will be checking my broccoli and my nasturtiums (which the butterflies are also fond of) for signs of eggs, which they lay in clusters of about twenty on the undersides of the leaves. (The nasturtiums have been planted as a trap plant to lure them away from the broccoli.) Hopefully, with the birds as my allies and an army of beneficial insects, I can prevent damage to my broccoli.

I NEVER use pesticides or herbicides of ANY kind. I strive to mimic Mother Nature and to show by example, that there is a better way. Most of the people in this town look upon my natural approach with a kind of condescension. I don’t mind. I know, in my heart and in the very depths of my soul, that gardening with the intent to do no harm, my garden will flourish and so will the butterflies.

Depression is a tricky thing. It begins with an event or the remembrance of an event brought on perhaps by a song or a smell or a sight that sparks the memory. This in turn sets the ego on fire with a stream of negative thinking. We mistake the ego for who we really are, continuing to feed it with more negativity. Eventually our mental anguish can begin to feel comfortable in its familiarity. By this time, we have given our ego full license to do as it pleases, which is to make us feel miserable. The only way out of this vicious downward spiral is to remove one’s self from the rushing torrent of negativity. The best place to start, if weather permits, is to step outside and to literally, physically remove your person from the confined space where the morbid thoughts began. There is more light outside and therefore, there is more light inside of us. The dark thoughts cannot survive in the light, so filling our souls with light is the way to drown the dark thoughts that try to haunt us. Walking in nature, gardening, observing and caring for animals and wildlife, or simply sitting and observing nature are the best therapies one can invest in and they are completely free.

In the movie Gone with the Wind, Scarlett O’Hara said, when faced with an unpleasant dilemma, “I won’t think about that right now. I will think about that tomorrow.” I am not sure if those were the exact words, but I have adopted them as my own way of dealing with crisis and challenging situations. I used to think that this was something like avoidance and that her statement was the result of a frivolous and naïve woman; but now that I am older, I have decided that this attitude actually contains a profound nugget of wisdom. Tomorrow has not arrived, so it does us no good to fret about a future that does not yet exist. Our only concern should be to make the best of the current moment.

I am fortunate because the things that I enjoy the most involve spending time out of doors. While I have numerous things that I could easily become depressed about, I simply do not have the time. My gardening, caring for the wild birds and raising baby chickens is a full time job for me. I know that summer is here for only a short time and I will have to make new decisions and perhaps more changes by the end of the year; but for now I will adopt my Scarlett O’Hara syndrome. I will not worry about tomorrow, today. I will think about tomorrow when tomorrow arrives.

Father’s Day has always been an uncomfortable day for me and one that I am only too happy to fast forward through to the following day, where it can be quickly forgotten. My mother was a “man pleaser”, as was common in her era. Females were considered to be second class citizens and of little importance. She idolized my older brother, who was the only boy in the family, and left my cold, authoritative stepfather to deal with me, which often involved his belt.

I have no frame of reference for a loving father. I know that I share this plight with millions of women who have grown up with missing and/or abusive fathers and stepfathers. For me, Father’s Day is like one of the sappy Hallmark® movies that portray a kind of love that does not exist in the real world. I am certain there are many men as well, who lacked good male role models and who find this holiday one which only brings up painful memories.

I was fortunate that in spite of my divorce from my daughters’ father, he has remained a permanent fixture in their lives. He is loving and he is kind and I know he means the world to them. I found it amusing that my youngest went through a period of being quite angry with him. She referred to him at that time as her “sperm donor” and I was her “birth giver”. Fortunately, this did not last long and what adult has not at one time or another, been angry at one, or both of her parents? It is part of the ongoing growth that we humans go through.

Three of my four granddaughters’ fathers’ are active in their children’s’ lives. My oldest granddaughter’s father was a troubled soul and he is no longer alive. Now she is in her early twenties and I fear that like me, she has much sadness to overcome. While I can never know what it feels like to be truly loved by a father, I appreciate those fathers who have remained in their daughters lives and shown them that they are worthy of love.