Earth Day rolled right into the weekend for me. On the day itself, I biked down to our little garden plot at Nahanton Park with a roll of chicken wire and a spade strapped ingeniously to the back rack with a bungee and some velcro, and a pannier full of tools. I dug out weeds and grass and chatted with garden neighbors, and dug some more. A bluebird dropped in for a visit and sang to me from a budding branch of the mulberry tree. Lunchtime called me home, the work unfinished.
So back I went on Saturday, spade and tools and all, and kept at it until it was all dug up and fenced, and there was another song from the bluebird. I don’t speak bluebird, but it sure sounded like some kind of blessing, and I like to think it had something to do with the bike. And maybe my ingenious method of carrying a shovel.