The silent season is, well, no longer that silent.
All winter, as I questioned the meaning of existence during my existential crises, even the sparse chirp of a chickadee couldn’t perk me up. Imagine, no melody at all, just the occasional caw of a crow – a sound that’s frankly more suited to the soundtracks of my dark, introspective thoughts about the eternal void.
But guess what? Just as I entertained the thought of it all being pointless, I heard a red-winged blackbird. Ludicrous, right? It's like Mother Nature telling me, “Not today, Jack. Not today!”
And then, there are the flowers. Oh, the defiance! Last fall’s tulips and hyacinths basically said, “Forget the frost, we’re blooming!” I moved them to the warmer side of the barn, like moving from despair to a slightly less gloomy despair.
The flower beds at my place still look dead, covered in shredded leaves like a badly done-up zombie. And despite the supposed ‘protection’ we give them, deer – these dark, beastly changelings that once were as sweet-looking as chocolate – are tearing down barriers and munching on everything. It's chaos in flora and fauna!
To be honest, it’s poetic. Me, contemplating my inevitable demise amid a backdrop of nature stubbornly pushing through its own icy end.
If this icy mud puddle called life lets me survive longer, maybe I’ll even see the chipmunks again. Or maybe I won’t, which could be fitting, dying alone, humorously mocked by nature’s resilience. Guess the joke's on me, huh?
Based on the original article "How to Plan a Garden With Climate Change in Mind".
