A Good Enough Nest
Posted on August 30, 2014 by bob in OffTheBeatenPath
I surveyed the yard, glanced up at the glaring sun and back down at my wristwatch. It was half-past noon, less than three hours before my daughter woke from her nap. In one hand was a list of tasks no mortal could complete in such a short time, in the other, a dusty chainsaw. Suppressing my self doubt, I took a deep breath, pumped the primer bulb, opened the choke and yanked the saw to life.
For 18 months – my daughter’s age almost exactly – the unruly hedge of pittosporum had tauntingly crept closer to the house 
with each passing day. The impending arrival of our second child in mere weeks meant every put-off and pushed aside to-do on our suburban patch of dirt was suddenly an urgent matter.
After sufficiently hacking back one leg of the hedge, I noticed the pile of limbs strewn about the lawn that needed to be run through the chipper. It was two o’clock, at best an hour before I was back on Daddy duty to give my very pregnant wife a break from toddler patrol.
After the hedge trimmings had been chipped so the grass could be cut, I would tackle the rotten column by the back door. It anchored one end of the fence between our breezeway and backyard, and if it gave, I’d have two dogs roaming the neighborhood.
Of greater concern regarding the dogs was the driveway gate. All that kept my hounds from running amok, treeing every cat in sight and worrying the little old ladies half to death, were a few bungee cords and some dry-rotted poly rope. The gate hinges were busted, as the hedge I’d been cutting had almost pushed the fence over due to neglect. The whole gate itself needed to come off so I could reset and weld the broken corners.
In addition, the poor chickens had been without an enclosed coop for nearly a year. With egg production tied to sunlight, I’d taken the front off the coop last fall to run a light from the roof in hopes of coaxing a few more working hours from the flock. It worked for awhile, but then I’d gotten sidetracked and never reinstalled the fourth wall. The elements had gotten in and now the light was out.
Moving down the list, any shot at a fall garden required prep now. The summer’s delicious tomatoes, corn, peppers and squash had sucked the nutrients from the soil, and a large scale refurbishing of the dirt was in order. Lime and compost needed to be worked in ahead of sowing season, which for many of my favorite fall staples was closer than I’d care to admit.
Had I a week to complete these tasks I probably could have managed, but I didn’t have a week, just 60 minutes, maybe less, with no knowledge when my next bit of “free time” would occur. Sweat-soaked and disheartened at the remaining-work-to-time-left ratio, I wiped my brow and stared at the pair of unruly Bradford pears next on the list.
Standing there in the shade of those two trees, working out the fall-path for the limbs in my head, a breeze shook the uppermost branches, knocked loose an empty bird’s nest and dropped it at my feet. Looking at the hodgepodge of materials comprising the nest – bits of pine straw, grass, strands of dry-rotted poly rope – I realized there is no perfect nest. Maybe getting by with what you have at your disposal was plenty good enough.
Perhaps the hedge could wait, I pondered, as could the chipping. The rotten column hadn’t given way yet and I could always scrounge up another bungee cord to hold the gate. The hens were clucking contentedly despite their housing situation, and the garden, well, even it could sit a spell. The time constraints which had weighed so heavily were entirely self-imposed.
Reaching into my pocket, I wadded the list into a ball and tossed it in the trash, traded the chainsaw for a hammock, and spent the next hour beneath the pears gently rocking in the breeze.
Niko Corley spends his free time on the water or in the woods, and earned his charter boat license in 2012. He can be contacted at cootfootoutfitters@gmail.
