David Heiller
The turkeys arrived on March 29 at
our house.
That was the morning the valley
turned into an amphitheater of gobble-gobble. Their calls bounced off the trees
and hills like a bunch of Romans watching Daniel fend off the lions.
It was a glorious roar, although
lacking the distinctive voice of T. Rex.
T. Rex is short for Turkey Rex. He is
a big bird, although I haven’t seen him. But I have heard him. He must have a
special spot in front of a cave filled with just the right qualities. Either
that or he picked up a megaphone from Uncle Donny’s old junk pile.
Immediately following the big event. |
The turkeys made me realize with a
smile of relief that spring is actually here. It’s been a bleak winter for some
reason, and it seemed like the grass and goldfinches would never start to turn.
But both things happened last week too.
Those four bluebirds on the highline
wire down the road didn’t hurt either. Or the garlic plants that I had pushed
into the ground last fall. There they were on Saturday, green shoots the size
of your little finger, stretching into the rain.
Mom reported seeing little red
rhubarb plants at her house too. She calls them “nubbins,” which is kind of a
fun word that has a lot of spring in it.
Alex and his dad, Jim. |
Alex and I walked into the woods on
Saturday morning to scout out a spot for his big plan. We found a decent place,
down the hillside, away from the road, with the valley slipping toward the
river.
He went back a second time with his
brother, John, to confirm the choice and lay in a few supplies: a bottle of champagne,
two classes, and a blanket on which to kneel.
The third time was the charm, with
the right person, and it seemed like the birds chirped just a little louder
while we sat in the house, me, Cindy, John, Kathy, Jim, trying not to smile too
broadly at the thought of Alex’s grand proposal and Laura’s equally graceful acceptance.
That’s what happened.
A celebration of spring and love at Little Miami that evening. |
The glow will stay for a while too.
It is hanging on through the gutsy wind and rain this Monday morning. It will
last through the rise and fall of Lake Ponchetrain, which now stands in front
of our garage. The ball is in motion, the earth is spinning again. T. Rex is
calling. Spring and love are in the air.
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