What is Missing?

Anyway, 

it doesn't matter how much, 

how often, 

or how closely 

you keep an eye on things 

because you can't control it. 

Sometimes things 

and people 

just go. 

Just like that. 

~ Cecelia Ahern

Were the milkweed still in the field? I'd seen them there before - before construction and more frequent mowing.

Our morning walk was focused on reaching the tangle of green along the creek to see if any milkweed survived, but became a meditation on "what was missing."

It started when we came across this stump. It is located along the sidewalk where we often leave an empty mug (to be recovered on the way back up the hill). This was once an enormous and prolific pecan. There were often nuts enough for passers by, for the squirrels and, crushed under tires, for doves and other birds.

Then a theme developed - the changing neighborhood. People and things missing...some missed...some returned....

The tree is gone, the stump remains.

The manikin is missing, but the celebration of spring is here.

The jay is gone, one feather remains.

The neighbor is gone, but a grandchild and great grandchild now live here.

No milkweed along the creek, but this wild gourd vine grows....

and dewberries are ripening.

I've not seen anyone spraying in this field, nor is it posted. Eight berries for my breakfast.

"Lucky" is missing a leg, but is still a menace - barking/ears back.

The big red ants were missing and are now back. I hated them when I was a child. Now we know their importance as a food supply for some creatures (and watch for the return of the horned toad).

Butterflies are returning.

We stopped as "Lucky" appeared barking and guarding the sidewalk.

He moved away and we moved forward, shouting when he acted as he made a move towards us. [I do not understand some people - why, if a dog had already tangled with the busy traffic, would you let him roam unleashed and un-fenced?]

Still, while some neighbors are gone, others are present and neighborly. Zelda and I had moved past the barking menace and looked up to see a man heading our direction. He lives across from the barker and had heard our shouting. He was coming to see if we needed help.

Grateful for the kind and thoughtful. Grateful for our changing, but still a little wild, neighborhood.

A sign.