I have written before of my views through various Somerville windows especially the ones in Steve’s kitchen. From one window in particular I like to stare down into a small garden. This year the landlord has been preoccupied so the garden is overrun in a beautiful way. Rose and purple morning glories entwine every surface, including the tall stalks of the sunflowers.
Greek oregano overshadows Thai basil. Rosemary holds its own against a crumbling retaining wall. Green tomatoes grow ever larger watched lustfully by gray squirrels that live in the adjacent oak tree and the “rat” whose home is beneath the garden. I put rat in quotes because there is some disagreement whether the furry fellow is a rat or some other long-nosed, long-whiskered, long-tailed creature. Regardless, I still call him Roscoe Rat when I spy him nibbling on roots. No names do I give to the sparrows, starlings and sparrows. There are just too many and while lovely they seem indistinguishable as they skip around for insects and seeds. Nor do I try to name the most recent visitor, a bright yellow finch. Each morning for a week it has dropped out of the sky to alight upon the sunflowers. Each visit is only five seconds or so. How much longer he will visit before migrating onward I do not know. Even if he should appear no more the memories of his presence remain indelible. Two shades of gold together, feathered and petaled, touched by early morning sunlight.
Words + Images 