Instructions for the Proper Care and Feeding of Grumpy *Robins
(*for most anyone, actually. Put your own name here if you’d like)
If you see me one day, and I seem out of sorts.
Ask me.
Ask me this.
“Have you been outside lately? Without a list, without an agenda? When was the last time you wandered through your yard for the joy of it?
When I start to protest, because I probably will, because of all the things I think I need to do, stop me. Say “Yes, dear heart. Of course there is an endless amount of work you could do inside. Also outside. Take your blackberry patch, for example. Endless! But those berries will be there tomorrow, and you can do another clearing then. But now? Bless them. Leave them. That is not your task for this hour. Right now, you must go out and play in the dirt.”
Hand me my shovel. My garden gloves. Rip open the bags of compost that have been languishing at the side of the house. Send me out to my other compost pile, the one at the back of the yard. Help me turn it over. We can search for worms. Because there are plants to plant, living things that need a new home, the ones that I found on the discount table at the nursery. The $2.00 shrubs. The $.50 perennials. Continue Reading…








