Harriett’s Gift

“You certainly do like yard work,” I called from my seat at the picnic table on Harriett’s screened-in porch as I waited impatiently for her to finish whatever it was she was doing in her yard that day in 1991. Since moving to the isolation of the Tahoe National...

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Musings at First Light

It’s only five o’clock, but already I’m wide awake. What is it about this time of the day that I love so? Later on, the sun will arc high overhead, forcing the lizards and frogs to shelter from the blistering rays of another hot August afternoon. I’ll shelter too. But...

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Bambi, Bambi

Except for a section of wrought-iron screen fencing along the upper street side—totally useless for keeping anything in or out—my garden is open to all. The wild critters were here long before we came along—preemptive rights, I think is the legal term—and they depend...

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It Takes a Village

Several weeks after the birth of the Bambi twins, I was seated one sunny morning in the breakfast room, paying bills and tending to the mound of paperwork that routinely accumulates on my desk. You know, activities like addressing birthday cards, reading again the...

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Crow-Baby, Cry-Baby

Several weeks ago, on my routine early morning bathrobe-and-coffee-cup patrol around the garden, a series of raucous cries shattered my reverie, noises not terribly unlike those of the tiny fawn who once fell into our straight-sided ornamental pool and would have...

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Who Needs Video Games?

From a clematis-covered pergola a dozen feet outside the window over my kitchen sink hangs a hummingbird feeder. I planned it this way. Nature’s garden gifts often come in the form of fleeting moments; if I’m not Johnny-on-the-spot to experience them, pffft, the...

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