My Garden in June

My hydrangeas are ruined, but I don’t care. Since yesterday, a large chunk of the blue flowers have gone missing. I think it’s the deer. They like to wander through my garden in the early morning, nibbling on my plants and sipping from the bird bath. Often, we eat breakfast together. My mama told me to spray everything with jalapeño water, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. If I were a deer, it’d be awful to chomp into a ripe, juicy hydrangea and get a fiery surprise. Deer have to eat too.

Besides, the rest of the plants are flourishing. The irises developed sprawling purple petals, and stalks of larkspur stand in proud rows. The sweet william grows in clusters of white, pink, and red, threatening to overwhelm the daisies. In the back, I check on the fruit. I peek down and see the beginnings of tiny, pale strawberries. I look up and see a juneberry tree bursting with plump, purple orbs.

All of this growth attracts critters. Fluffy bees bustle around, and butterflies flap from flower to flower. A house sparrow couple hops and pecks on the ground. They nest in the rain gutter and forage in the yard. A blur of wings stops by the larkspur and drinks a few blossoms. I blink, but then the hummingbird vanishes. In the bird bath, a pair of robins sip, splish, and splash.

Amidst the chorus of chirps comes a new call, a high-pitched tsee-tsee-tsee. A flock soars overhead and lands in my juneberry tree. Each bird is cinnamon brown with a pointy head and butter yellow belly. Each wing is smoky gray and dipped in neon orange. But, the clearest tell is the black bandit masks. These majestic burglars, cedar waxwings, have joined the party.

My juneberries will be ruined, but I don’t care. Waxwings flutter around the boughs. I watch as one plucks a berry and passes it to his partner. Instead of eating it, she starts a game of hot potato. They pass the juneberry, back and forth, back and forth. It takes a few rounds, but she eventually eats the gift. I hope they nest nearby.