Snakeskin Journey

This backyard is ringed by large old trees—white oak and ash—and each morning the birds swoop back and forth across the open space,  singing boisterously.  To see pairs of cardinals, the male so surprisingly red and the female a muted echo, is a delight.  I grew up around this area where birds sport bright colors like red and brilliant blue, but I’m unaccustomed to seeing them after my thirty odd years away.

The other day I had to resist an impulse to swerve the car when a cardinal flew in front (it had the sense to navigate quite nicely and avoid me).  The colors!  And the birdsong!  These weeks of sipping my morning coffee to the tunes of midwestern birds, watching the large resident rabbit zig-zag across the lawn, hearing the frogs in chorus…these simple things have healed my soul a bit at the beginning of my day.  And I’m grateful.  It causes me to vow to pay more attention to the unfolding scenes around me every day—the ones we miss in the rush of accomplishment and duty and stress.  I wonder what is unfolding in my own tiny yard back home that I’ve yet to notice in the busyness of my recent move.

I caught the bluebird escaping her nest just now.  She’s sitting on a new batch of eggs and is not pleased that I have taken up regular residence in this old chair in the corner of the deck.  She has a mission now and must suffer my presence for the sake of her babies, but she lets me know with her watchful eye that my morning sanctuary is her morning bother.