Here in North Carolina this week, we have had more than our share of rain. It has rained nearly every day during the past week. I’m an avid gardener, so I realize that if I want to enjoy flowers and vegetables growing in my garden, rain is necessary. Today it rained so much that the ground in my back yard is sodden. In NC, if you dig down to about ten inches, you will find red clay.
Calla Lillies- photo by Bridget Culver
The clay inhibits moisture from going deep into the soil. And the accumulated rainfall after a week of rain just sits on top of that clay. When I go to my back yard, I wear boots. The first Spring after we moved here, we planted several young trees. One week it rained so hard one of the young trees, a beautiful dogwood just floated up out of its soil and fell over. I’ve never seen that happen before. We replanted it, but it didn’t survive.
Some people love rain, the way it sounds on the roof as it falls, the fresh smell after the storm. I, too, enjoy these things. But still, I love a sunny day so much more. I feel so happy when I look out the window and see the sun shining. It lifts my spirit.
Jalapeno – Photo by Bob Culver
Today it started to drizzle on my way to Animal Edventure. A thunderstorm is predicted at about 10:30 AM. I arrive at about 7:15 AM. And so, I think I can accomplish my work done before the rain starts. But the rain starts early. The bird building I work in has a metal roof, and the sound that the rain makes on the roof is tremendous. The parrots and Macaws love noise, and they increase their volume as the rain hitting the roof becomes louder. I have to go out of the building several times, and I am thoroughly soaked.
By this time, I accept that it will probably rain all day. I stop letting it bother me. I turn the radio on in the building. The only station that I’m able to tune in is a Country Station, not my favorite kind of music. But I go with it. The birds, including three Macaws, three cockatoos, and twenty parrots, all begin to chime in. They love the rain. And would probably love nothing more than to be out in the rain taking a shower. So all and all we had a good morning in the bird building, singing, and some screaming, screeching and talking.
After I took care of my parrots in the bird building, I go outside to feed the pheasants, chickens, and doves. They don’t seem to mind the rain either. I cleaned out all their water dishes and checked who needed more feed. And I rake out the waste, and I’m finished. I put all my tools away and walk out to my car. The sun shows its face. I was happy to see it even if it is only for a little while.
I hit the country road and start home. When I ‘m about one-half mile from Animal Edventure, I notice a Red-Tailed Hawk sitting on a post of a split rail fence. And flying over the hawk’s head is a wren who is repeatedly dive-bombing the hawks head, hitting it over and over. I realize the wren wants the hawk out of his territory. Possibly she’s protecting her nearby nest. I want to stop and take a picture, but I realize they would both fly away if I did. So, I just slowly drive by them and watch the show. The hawk ignoring the wren as if were little more than a gnat. And the wren unafraid and unrelenting in her desire to protect her nest and babies.
Nature is continuing to do its job, rain upon the earth, offering us the occasional glimpse of the sun, the wren protecting the future generation of wrens.
When I arrive home, I fill up the bird feeders in my yard while the sun still shines. As long as we live upon this planet, nature will continue to provide for the cycle of life. About an hour later, the heavy rain returns, and I watch the storm from the safety of my porch.
As I sit there on my porch chair, my dog Douglas jumps up next to me, and I pet his head. He’s happy that I’m home and is content to lie next to me and continue his nap.
As I sit there, I contemplate all the things that occurred during the past five days, and some of it is heartbreaking. A man’s life was lost because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and his skin was not white. The city he lived in is in turmoil, and his community is angry and reacting.
It is a heartbreaking event, one that we have all heard too many times. I can’t imagine how this will resolve. I wonder how much longer it will take for America to recognize that the color of one’s skin is one small aspect of that person. Would you define a person’s worth by their eye color? This man’s future is forever gone. His family and friends will miss him for the rest of their lives.
The number of people that have died from the virus in America has risen to over 100,000 people. A number so large it’s hard to comprehend. But every single digit represents a single person who is forever lost to their family, their friends. Anything that they could have contributed to our society, to our planet is forever lost.
Anyone who states that the “numbers” aren’t that bad, is a person who does not value human life. A person that values “things” more than life. The accumulated loss of all that this 101thousand lives could have accomplished and could have enriched our lives is incalculable ways and will forever remain unknown. But the loss will be deeply felt for generations to come.
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The boarded windows of the house across the street are tagged with graffiti. Broken bottles, beer cans, and trash are strewn across the overgrown, dead lawn in the front yard. The steps are covered with yellowed newspapers in various stages of decay. Unopened mail tumbles out of the rusty mailbox. The sad truth is it isn’t the only house on the block that looks abandoned. This neighborhood is the poster child for urban blight.
