i. the mockingbird 

“Mockingbirds don’t do one thing except make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corn cribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird.”— Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird (1960)

since february, i've been enamored with mockingbirds. it feels almost, um, spiritual? i dunno, you know how animals keep appearing and you're like, maybe god is talking through this creature? except in this case, it's like, clearly the mockingbird talking, and she knows so, so many songs. a mockingbird visited me at a particularly meaningful time when i needed to be present, or at least, needed to try to be present. on this visitation, i counted 73 songs in a tiny concert for me (and any other creatures listening), and it busted straight through my dark and busy little heart. now that i've been enchanted by her song, i've been listening out for her: in the backgrounds of films and even climates where she does not live. i read recently that mockingbirds eat some of the pests that threaten strawberry farms, and also learned that they defend their territory from other birds by prancing. in fitting tribute, i'm working on an illustration of a mockingbird, which happens to be the first thing i've had any motivation to draw in a year. 

ii. gardens 
  first, the city of portland installed a rainwater irrigation garden in the yards of many houses in my neighborhood, including mine. you know how it rains on average 164 days a year here? including like, every day in the past 10 days? these new rain gardens keep rainwater from going into a very overworked and old wastewater system. the install was extremely cute with city workers here for about a week, digging a trench and then filling it with some kind of basin system and then a bunch of evergreen native plants that also attract pollinators. second is that my backyard garden is off to the races. our wet and cold spring seemed like it'd never be the right time to get things in the ground, but things are out there now: dozens of starts (mostly nightshades, peppers, cucumbers), as well as new herbs to replace everything we lost in last year's heat dome (RIP artichoke and very established sage bushes). there's some fennel and nasturtiums going wild. besides all that, the bounty of flowers has begun (peonies and roses so far), with gladiolus and hydrangea coming in for late summer. here's to few or no days over 100 degrees this year and/or fires (though the modeling doesn't look pretty). and here's to the previous owner(s) of this house, who staggered all the blooming things so beautifully and intentionally that we regularly have flowers to bring inside. 
iii. analog objects 
  i've had this same sun-faking alarm clock by my bedside for years and years, which i mostly use either to check the time or let warm light rouse me on super dark winter mornings. but a few months ago i re-realized it had an AM/FM radio in addition to all the other sounds it makes (birdsong is one of them; obvious preference here). now whenever i remember to, i am trying to make a habit out of listening to my favorite portland radio station while i read in bed with a book. no screens, no apps. it's this nice analog return to things i prefer, if i'm honest, and a needed reminder to take breaks from the digital world as often as i can. 

maybe what these three things have in common is that i'm actually sixty at heart? that's fine. i suppose i had a feeling this was where i was headed.  

oh, and currently (simultaneously and extremely slowly) reading: 
the warmth of other suns: the epic story of america's great migration by isabel wilkerson (non-fiction)
rock me on the water: 1974 the year los angeles transformed movies, music, television, and politics by ronald brownstein (non-fiction)
the heart is a lonely hunter - carson mccullers (fiction)
time is a mother - ocean vuong  (poetry)
what are you reading?
what's your favorite bird? 

xo
rhienna