For the past quarter century, I had no reason for a bird bath. Natural streams and a landscaped series of ponds took care of any avian desire for drinking and bathing near my homes.
Then I arrived in Pleasant Gap.
Last year, I planted gardens in my front yard but something was missing. After several Gardening for Birds workshops, I found my answer: A bird bath.
Putting the proverbial cart before the horse, I bought a Water Wiggler on the advice of Chris, my all-things-horticultural guru. It’s a battery-operated dome on legs that has two rubber discs that twirl below to create ripples in the water of a shallow bird bath. By April I added a bird bath to put the Water Wiggler in. What a joy!
Two weeks later, panic set it. My WW froze during a cold evening in late April. I carefully broke the thin ice off the moveable parts and de-iced the surface of the bird bath. A call to Chris eased my nerves. She had her WW in water all through the winter; it just keeps going once it thaws.
The bird bath and Water Wiggler have become my tiny visual sanctuary. Looking at them as I sit on my front deck creates Zen moments for me. The ripples in the water are an open invitation for birds and, as a side benefit, discourage mosquitos.
From our bench, Sandy and I watch finches or wrens perch on the rim of the bird bath and gently dip their beaks into the water as if they are prim and proper Londoners sipping tea from Spode. In June, cardinals and catbirds joined the tea party.
But the biggest show can only be seen from the privacy of my kitchen sink window.
I always thought robins were ordinary, and somewhat boring, birds. But you should see Mister Robinson. With his head feathers slightly amiss, he plops into the shallow bird bath, dips his beak under the surface, rolls the water over the crown of his head, down his neck, onto his wings, and gives a shake and a shimmy. Then he repeats the show with continued exuberance, showering and dousing.
When there is not an air quality alert, I spend down-time in the evening sitting on the bench pondering my good fortune, watching the activity at the bird bath. It must be cleaned every couple of days, a chore which is easy to do. I dump the dish of dirty water onto the water-loving elderberry bush behind it, give it a little scrub, and refill the bath as I water my deck planters.
As summer progresses, the bird bath becomes a spa with blue larkspur petals and tiny white blossoms of elder that drift down from the shading branches. By late August, if this heat continues, we may brew elderberry wine from the berries that drop into the bird bath. Watch out, Mister Robinson, guzzling and flying may be hazardous to your health. Laurie Lynch
Savoring & Saving Summer: Now is the time to dry herbs for winter. I’ve been clipping sprigs of dill, tarragon and thyme, and hanging them in the kitchen to dry. For the thicker flower heads of calendula, I clip them, sandwich them between paper towels, place them on a rack, and sit them in the steamy car for a few days.
Sweet Baby James: On Tuesday in Gent, Belgium, Marina (and Koen) gave birth to James, their first. He coincidentally arrived on the Feast of St. James the Apostle, July 25. James shares the birth day of my beloved Aunt Pat, and the birth month of my beloved granddaughter, Lais.
Fleur-de-Blog 