Hope Floats

It feels like an oasis in the midst of a desert—an oasis surrounded by houses in the middle of a subdivision, in the middle of a city. It’s the next best thing to being surrounded by forests or a greenbelt. Sitting on the patio in the early morning, the dull roar of traffic is usually an annoying backdrop to the gurgling sound of water fountains. But not today. It’s quieter for some reason—so quiet that I caught the shrill sound of baby birds.

Several months ago I hung a bird house on the lattice screen at the back of the garden. I didn’t think a bird would actually use it, but a little wren must have thought it was a perfect nesting place. When I saw her actually going inside my heart soared! This morning, a month or so later, I hear the chirping as momma makes several trips back and forth, bringing food to the little ones. Each time she brings food the chirping frenzy begins, and then they quiet down until the next time. How many trips is she going to make? Do they feed all day long? I hope to find out.

There’s one problem: I have a cat. If you read my story “Guardian of the Garden”, you know Jasper was an answer to prayer about my rat problem. I hadn’t had a cat in years and had serious reservations about having one because I love birds and encourage them with many birdfeeders (which also encourages rats!); but Jasper has proven to be pretty laid back. It seems his presence, made known by the scent of his private garden facilities (litter box au natural), more than his hunting skills, deters rodents. I haven’t seen one in months. He’s intrigued by the birds: he watches intently and only half-heartedly stalks them before they fly away; however, this birdhouse would be easy for him to get to, especially if baby birds begin to emerge. So far he hasn’t noticed the chirping or momma’s activity, but I’m going to have to keep a sharp eye out—he is a cat after all. I hope they make it.

In February of 2021 we had a historic weather event. It was an extremely cold, long-lasting record-breaking freeze called The Great Texas Freeze. It is now June and most plants are actually coming back. Some didn’t make it, so there are several holes in my garden space that need to be filled. But because growers lost a lot of plants too, they are harder to find, and more expensive. I’ve had great fun going to various garden centers hunting for plants. I also went to a plant exchange in the neighborhood and brought back some surprise plants and met some fellow gardeners. I hope to see them again.

Branches broken off by the ice have opened up the space, letting in more sun, which means I have more plants to choose from. I’m enjoying adding new plants and redesigning areas that needed a change. My boundaries have expanded, and I’m embracing the change. The Big Freeze was devastating to many….lost plants doesn’t compare to the losses others suffered. Some even lost their lives. I hope that those who suffered can see some sunshine come through. I hope that the “hole” created by devastation is being filled with new opportunities, new perspectives, and a hopeful outlook.

Hope keeps me floating above the surface. It’s an anchor to hold on to, and keeps me looking forward. Even if my hopes aren’t always fulfilled, I have confidence that God is handling things. In this life, we all need hope; but someday, we won’t need it anymore for all things we be as they should be.