As I started weeding the blueberry bed in May, I was only vaguely aware of the sounds around me, including a rather noisy bird warbling from the nearby honeysuckle arbor. I’d set aside an hour to tackle a job that had been put off far too long and, intent on the task at hand, I didn’t pay much attention.
The blueberries share their bed with mint. We didn’t plant it; it was here when we bought this place. Knowing how invasive it can be, Mr. Petrol Head wanted to rip it all out. But I love mint and use a lot of it during the summer, so I convinced him to leave it. In return, I agreed to weed the blueberry bed VERY early every spring while reducing the mint runners and making sure the roots of the blueberry shrubs had the space they deserved.
Early spring came and went. By the time May rolled around and I was on my hands and knees aggressively pulling the weeds, I was powered by guilt. That’s probably why it didn’t register that the sound from the honeysuckle arbor had gone from a gentle warbling to something closer to the sound of a screeching cat. It was only after viciously yanking on a particularly noxious clump of weeds that I finally clued in. Because on the ground in front of me, literally inches away, was a small nest with four tiny white eggs. The screeching I now couldn’t avoid hearing came from a Spotted Towhee warning me away from her nest.
I hadn’t expected to encounter a nest while weeding. I didn’t even know Spotted Towhees nested on the ground but they do, and clearly our weedy blueberry bed provided just the right amount of shelter for mama bird. Needless to say, that particular part of the garden wasn’t weeded or watered for weeks while we waited for the eggs to hatch and the babies to fledge.
Though I was initially charmed by the sight of the nest, within minutes I began mentally chastising myself for not getting to the task sooner. Now the weeds had more time to establish themselves. The blueberry harvest might be diminished due to lack of water. And the bed, which looked messy and neglected, was also highly visible to the visitors who were arriving to stay in just a few days. It wasn’t the outcome I’d expected.
It was a plot twist in the garden.
When it comes to books, who doesn’t love a well-executed plot twist? One that takes you by surprise and turns a story on its head. One you didn’t see coming but in retrospect, seems inevitable. Plot twists, in fiction and in life, aren’t always positive or happy events. The unexpected can bring joy or despair. However, it’s often plot twists that make life (and stories) more interesting and memorable.
That certainly was the case in our garden. The nest was unexpected. Waiting for the babies to appear brought us a lot of joy. And once they did materialize, it was interesting to watch them hop about before they learned to fly.
We may not harvest as many blueberries this year. The garden was definitely messier than I would have liked in spring too. But as plot twists go, this one was happy and life-affirming. It made for a memorable start to our gardening season. It was also a good reminder for me to start weeding the blueberry bed little earlier next year. And to save a spot somewhere else in the garden for unexpected plot twists!
