I am a water sprinkler. In the early mornings I water to experience pleasures of sights, scents and sounds at a perennial flower border and the vegetable garden between the two queen anne homes. If I am quiet enough, I may have to chase off a rabbit. Or a rabbit in hiding under the peonies may startle me wide awake as it darts off.
A scorching day is ahead and all are thirsty, but especially the four urns of annual violet pansies, pink geraniums, and vinca. And the green beans. They must be watered early because they are prone to mildew. After my visit they will dry in the sun all day.
I pull the hose from the circle at the pump and lift the lever to start the flow. The water and twittering small birds in the trees nearby join to make music. The balance of chaos and order in the colors and textures of the vegetables and flowers delights me, tempting me to call off work. Instead, I munch a handful of sugar snap peas and a stalk of asparagus for breakfast. Then I see in a magenta cosmos blossom a pair of small native bees. Their wings are folded against their black-and-gray striped bodies, they cling to the flower’s yellow center. The chill in the air has kept them still. Head-to-head, as if sharing pollen dreams.
An author of nonfiction and poetry, Jeanne Blum Lesinski’s works have appeared in journals, lifestyle and gardening magazines, anthologies, and online. When not at her computer, she can often be found on a bicycle path or in a garden.