Back to Suburban Nature
Posted on June 22, 2009Wayne, PA, June 1981. It's a hazy and humid gray-blue Saturday and the summer beetles are whistle-clicking as I push the riding mower backwards out from the garage. I'm in grass cutting gear-white shorts with green piping, tube socks pulled to my knees, a blue Adidas t-shirt, mirrored sun-glasses, and super-absorbent plush white and blue wristbands.
Halfway into my mowing the barn swallows start to gather. They're suburban Philly barn swallows, bred long before Valley Forge was a park and the Pennsylvanian fields of gold summer straw were filled with office parks and houses instead of pheasant and fox.
They dive-two at first, then two more. Soon it's an aria of slight, razor-winged birds rising and falling in concert with my mowing. Even though I don't speak their language I know these birds understand me. It's a message. Something about a connection between what is natural and what is built by human hands. I have a special power. I am the Doctor Doolittle of suburban Philadelphia - there is no doubt that Yo hablo barnswallow. It brings tears to my eyes.
My sister, who was watching from the window and later claimed that I was yelling and ducking hysterically while flapping my arms and controlling the lawn mower with my knees, made sure she was there when I pulled the mower into the garage. "I talked with the birds!" I told her excitedly. "I have a gift," I whispered. "Chris," she said matter of factly. "They eat the bugs that you kick up when you cut the grass."
Nature speaks to us in many languages depending on where you live. For example, right now it is loquacious on the West Coast - chatting away with California peaches, nectarines, and cherries. We'll even start to have Angelcots (very tasty white apricots) coming on this week and into next.
The east and central part of the United States is just getting over being tongue-tied by spring and starting to produce its first local cherries and early stone fruits. You can find out what is growing in your region by going to fruitguys.com and clicking on "In the Mix." And remember - if no hablo sparrow, you can always try mime.
chris@fruitguys.com
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