This is the last of the required
entries for the nature writing class I’m taking, but not the last entry. This blog was supposed to be about looking at
the same place each week and finding something to say about it. I looked at
twelve places each week. Eleven of them were through the eyes and impressions
of other people. Several of the places, the zoo, the cemetery and Schenley
Park among them were places I’d been, but I didn’t see what my classmates saw there. I only
saw trees and rocks, sky and snow, the animals and the trash, Pittsburgh’s
skyline. They didn’t just show me details I’d not noticed. They taught me new
ways of looking. They told me about themselves in ways conversations before
class never could. In these blogs I’ve come to know about families, friends,
pets and hometowns.
Apacha’s
adventures in the park with Kyle had me looking at my little dog differently.
As Auggie has gotten older his walks have gotten shorter especially in winter
since his coat is short and the cold hurts his arthritis.
I walked
many times in the same cemetery as Sean. I saw monuments and liked the quiet.
He saw the earth’s’ patterns, the past, present, future and endless
possibilities.
I could go
on about what my cohorts saw and wrote about. It would do them a disservice,
actually. From this page you can get to all of theirs. Treat yourself to
something special and go read the blogs by Kyle, Sean, Maggie, Katie, Ryan,
Ashleigh, Shauna, Sio Lyo, Beca, Laura and Jonny.
*****
I’ve relearned my own backyard. For
years now I’ve hated it. I only saw it as work to do. I’d stopped watching or
even thinking about the things I loved about it. Each week, either standing at
the driveway’s edge or sitting on a stone bench my dad made, I’ve watched and
listened. I didn’t see fallen branches to pick up. I didn’t think about grass
I’d be cutting. I looked at the trees, the snow and the birds. I felt the wind
and the sun. So what’s out there today?
I crept out quietly. Birds are
around the feeder. They are on the ground! There are robins, chickadees and a
couple of small birds I can’t see well enough to identify. Whenever I get
within fifty feet of them-poof- they fly off so I keep my distance. They are
pecking around at the seeds that have fallen out of the feeders. Yes, that is a
plural. I got a second feeder to put a different seed mix out for them. A suet holder and suet share the pole from
which the feeders hang. Ashleigh, one of my classmates, suggested the suet. I’m
not sure what suet is, but it looks a lot like butter with a bunch of seeds in
it. (I’d look it up, but wondering is much more fun.) Only after the suet block
was in place did Ashleigh remember to mention it might attract bears! Bears
actually live in the neighborhood and though I have yet to see one my neighbors
have taken photographs of the bear in their yard.
Patty has seen other birds along
with the types I’ve seen around the feeder. Blue birds, doves and finches have
been on it when she’s gone out. They don’t flee from her in the mad panic that
overtakes them when I step out of the house or car. Can it be they birds think
I put the food out in order to capture them? She has suggested I look from afar
with binoculars.
Besides looking at birds I look at
the ground under the evergreens and think of coming weeds and the gallon
sprayer of weed killer I have inside. I’m thinking of how to get rid of the
stuff. I didn’t know before this class and a class I had in the fall how toxic
weed killer is. I’ve read that hot water is as effective as is getting down on
my knees and pulling them out. Patty stopped using poisons on her flowers and
vegetables a few years ago. She’s made or purchased insect repellents made with
soap. Standing here, thinking of how much insecticide and herbicide has landed
on my skin over the years I look at my arms and wonder if the spots I see were
always there. Is changing skin a normal part of getting older or something
sinister the chemicals made?
I have learned that that there is
something between my car door and my house. I pause to look, listen and smell
this little piece of Pennsylvania each time I step outside. If I take nothing
else away from this class, what happens
in that pause is more than enough.
