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Posts Tagged ‘Hal Borland quote’

You can’t be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet. (Hal Borland)

The sunflower that bloomed at the base of our blue spruce wasn’t meant to be as permanent a gift as I thought it would be. I watch a squirrel nibble on stray birdseed and then chomp off the yellow head of the flower.

Beauty gone in seconds. And a meal on the run for the squirrel.

Unfortunately, the tree, towering above the yard, has lost branches to disease. My husband’s uncle gave us the spruce when our first son was a toddler. In recent years the tree’s maintenance has cost enough to support an arboretum. Spruce’s upkeep has ended. Nature’s natural longevity will take over. Nature wins.

Later in the afternoon Jay, Ella and I wait on the front porch for Ella’s daddy to arrive. A squirrel stops to eat seed in the yard. He moves closer and stares at us. Ella moves toward the critter; the critter doesn’t skedaddle. I pull my granddaughter back. This is NOT natural for a squirrel. I get up to shoo the pest.

Jay grabs some feed from the bag not far from the front door, inside the house. “That’s probably the squirrel I fed yesterday. He’s looking for more birdfeed.”

Squirrel waits while Jay tosses a seed meal onto the sidewalk. Critter does not care that I photograph him. His snout has a slightly dark edge. Is this the thief that beheaded the sunflower? Maybe. Don’t know for certain.

My thoughts are not sweet. Don’t like you, squirrel. Yet, as he eats I see parts of life that are graceful and disarming, annoying yet universal and not made of solid darkness. All living beings need to eat. The way he picks up tiny seeds has charm.

And yet, I don’t want him too close to my family. Wild animals, even small ones, need to remain wild.

Fear, however, needs to be tamed. I think about the news, the same inflammatory stories repeated on an infinite loop, tenebrous expressions on a national leader’s face, dark enough to suggest malice, worse unspoken. Horror grows strong in the imagination.

Reaction born of hate, however, adds fuel to malice.

The next day as Jay leaves for a class he calls to me, “Your squirrel is here. He’s begging to be fed.”

“Not my squirrel,” I answer laughing.

However, squirrel has a handful of seed before Jay leaves the driveway. The seed is given via my hand. I admit it; I don’t have all of life’s answers.

After squirrel’s feast, with photo of possible suspect

Before the crime with a pic of the injured tree

 

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