When we first landed on Southport Island (massive move from Boothbay Harbor) I had big dreams for a large garden. With a bit of a wreck Ford “9N” tractor and a rescued two bottom plow, I set out to cultivate a garden of heavenly delights – veggies galore, corn, maters, greens! The works.

Once plowed up I realized very quickly that the soil was in pretty hard shape – lots of clay and poor drainage. A big job lay ahead to mix in some better enhancements which I was prepared to do. As my dear mother used to say, “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach, Bob!” And so it goes. Our first crop consisted mostly of weeds and pathetic growing things that resembled edibles but no one in the family cared to sample. In short, the garden really needed help and downsizing. Trying to keep all the plants, embellish the soils and produce income resulted in a trifecta flop. I had truly bitten off more than I could chew.

Over the years our gardens have been reduced in size. For many years we went without. Not until recently, and with the help of our wonderful family, did we try a more reasonable approach to producing food and more frequent trips to Hannaford. I know, my farmer Bob hat didn’t fit!

Oh well, live to fight another day.

During the fallow years our gardens became more flowered than “fooded.” And in so doing we were happy to see a fairly significant infestation of birds, insects and wildlife. Now our raised bed gardens occupy a far smaller portion of my original vision and are infinitely more productive and manageable. This year’s crop of lettuces, kale, Swiss chard and squash has been very successful, due in some part, I suppose, to the amount of rain. We have also experienced a bumper crop of grass to be mowed. Honestly, I have not managed to keep up and have all but given up trying to keep everything uniformly mowed. I do sections.

In the course of small garden maintenance, i.e., weeding mostly, it has come to my/our attention that the small oddly shaped bird house which hovers over the “wilder” version of our planetary flower garden has become occupied by one of our resident chickadee population.

Now I know that there is no real way to determine if this particular critter is a regular, however, when I do my patented make-believe bird chirp which I employ for all feathered friends universally, this particular chickadee cocks its head and replies with a lovely “chick-a-dee-dee” and ( I kid you not), a wink. So, I am inclined to suggest that this particular bird has been in the neighborhood for more than one rodeo. Maybe it’s one of the birds that has witnessed our garden adjustments over the years and decided to hang in with us as we developed a more sane approach to self fulfillment.

At any rate, we are tickled to see the boss peaking out and anxious to see if other wee ones are on the way. Wish they could help us weed!