Evidence of where a garden used to be, these tulips sprout from the grass in the corner of the yard by the stone wall. It’s the same area where the Naked Ladies and purple Iris grow.
This morning while brushing Fanny and Lulu, a bird at the very top of the apple tree was impossible to ignore. I could barely make him out, so plain colored and small. But his song was so complex and varied at first I was sure it was many birds calling to each other.
I stood my head in the pink budding branches, listening. Fanny followed, butting me with her nose because I had abandoned her.
When I looked up, the barn swallows shot out of the barn, towards the marsh, then circleing like bats. They came back on Friday, the same day the tulip opened.