bird, asparagus, yard

I was looking around my back yard this afternoon after work, and paused in the back corner of the yard, under the tree branches. This is a spot under the boughs of numerous trees: The broken (but still alive) arms of a choke cherry, the scraggly limbs of young and crowded hackberry and ash, and, above them all, a towering tulip tree. Immediately after I stopped, I heard bird calls close over my head, and saw movement. I couldn't tell what I saw at first, but a tufted titmouse fluttered down to branches within 7 or 8 feet of me; then a red bellied woodpecker stopped on a dead cherry limb. Then came a hairy woodpecker to the same spot. Other birds, hidden from view in the foliage, weren't far away. It was weird; I spend lots of time looking from my windows, often with binoculars, trying to get a good look. But out there, in that shadowy spot, I was in their world, and they hardly paid attention to me. They were so close. I wonder how close they would have been had I not been wearing a bright white shirt? I should research how to build a bird blind.

I put quite a bit of effort into weeding the asparagus bed, then hauled several bins full of old composted leaf mould to the bed to use as mulch. To get to the leaves, I yanked up tons of ground ivy, wintercreeper, and Virginia creeper. The leaves seemed wonderfully composted; dry, crumbly, rich. Then I weeded a little more in some other spots, then mowed the front yard.

Now I'm going to eat focaccia with kale and garlic scapes and diced tomato on top.