Waiting for the Rain

 

It’s noon, and there is a heaviness in the air.

The sky is darkening, but not quite dark. The wind is blowing and the leaves are gently dancing. Usually when they dance like this, they make shadows that move across my sidewalk.

Not today.

There aren’t any birds or squirrels out either. They seem to know something I don’t.

I did feed one young squirrel this morning. I call him Skinny Tail because he seems to have less hair on his tail than the others. I also suspect he is the squirrel who likes to roll around in my flower pots.

I’ve started monitoring him and his bad behavior.

The other squirrels mostly leave my pots alone unless they’re trying to bury a peanut. They particularly like freshly planted pots with nice loose soil. Apparently, I have been providing them with both lunch and recreational facilities.

There is a barren spot just outside my hedge. The hedge is probably a million years old. After years of trimming, the bottom is mostly bare sticks while the greenery blooms several feet above them. It’s actually rather sad looking, but I inherited it that way, so it stays.

Meanwhile, I have one enormous airplane plant that continues producing babies faster than I can give them away. During the last trimming, I took about six babies with good roots and planted them in that barren spot.

The squirrels promptly dug them up.

I replanted them.

They dug them up again.

At the moment, two or three seem to be taking root. A few others are struggling along, and I’m hoping the squirrels are finally getting bored with the whole project.

I’ve even considered buying a bag of soil and dumping some in an out-of-the-way spot just for them to dig. Maybe if they had their own nice patch of loose dirt, they would leave mine alone.

Of course, that raises another question: How much of the area outside my apartment am I entitled to turn into Barbara’s Botanical Garden?

I was reluctant to go overboard at first because I didn’t want to annoy either management or my neighbors. One day a member of management walked by, so I asked if my gardening was okay.

He said yes.

His face said something closer to, Yeah, okay, whatever. Please don’t make me deal with this right now.

I took the yes and ran with it.

Fortunately, my neighbors seem to enjoy the results. My upstairs neighbor tells me how much she likes looking down at the garden. The neighbor who shares the patch with me says his visitors comment on it. And my neighbor on the other side says she wishes she could have gotten my apartment.

So I think I’m safe.

And now the sky is a little darker. The wind is a little stronger. The leaves are still dancing, and I think the rain will be here any minute.

I hope so.

Not only does my garden need it, but every drop that falls is one less minute I have to stand outside in the Houston sun holding a watering hose.

Sometimes nature and retirement cooperate beautifully.