Biome

During the colder parts of the year, a bag of bird seed sits on the floor behind the driver's seat of the car.  I surreptitiously strew seed in hopes of feeding the juncos and chickadees, while knowing that a few rodents are being kept full as well.  What can you do?  Everyone's hungry, and I stick to the smaller seed for finches.  My hand clenches as much as can be pulled out of the bag at once, and it is tossed off-property and through the fence, landing at the base of one of the dying crabapple trees.  Seeds scatter, inside the car and out.

I meant to vacuum, sort of, like I meant to remember to close the sunroof the past two times it poured.  The upholstery dried in the hot weather easily, but apparently not all of the water evaporated, for when pulling out a bag of groceries today, there was growing grass coming up from the floor of the car.  I have a garden inside the car that is three inches tall and green.  It pushes up around the bicycle rack, growing through buckles and straps, and well, looks fabulous.

There was the year that good-sized mushrooms grew between the bathroom sink cabinet and the tub.  Cup fungus from the Pezizales family appears alongside houseplants in their pots.  I can't grow decent parsley on a windowsill no matter how much cajoling and bribery occurs, but apparently I can grow millet in my car.  Perhaps I should stick the parsley in the automotive greenhouse and see what happens, toss in some basil and oregano and maybe a tomato plant.

It will have to go, I will have to mow the inside of the car before holes rot in the floorboards and I end up with a Flintstone mobile.  A shame, the little plants are so optimistic and independent.   I think that's what I like about it the most, that the conditions were just good enough for the birdseed to germinate, and now the blades stretch upwards towards light, like we all do when given the encouragement.

Night has come, and the clouds of day obliterate the stars of the evening sky.  Can't see much in the city as it is, but the larger phenomena still cause wonder when the night is clear.  The moon will rise larger and orange nearest earth's horizon, and still, after thousands of years the reason for the illusion eludes science.  On the thirteenth of this month, the Perseids will fly through under a full moon, supposedly falling from the vicinity of the constellation Perseus.  Not just the plants are busy, the whole universe is in motion.

Lay aside your duties of the day and come to peace with the evening hours.  Let go of work and put yourself to reflection and slower thought, fantasy and wish.  Lay your head down with the rest of the diurnals, and sail through the hours blessedly dark, quiet, and clear of distraction.  Sleep well, it is well deserved; be ready to meet the day.  Good night.