Give every day the chance to become the most beautiful day of your life — Mark Twain, American writer, humorist (1835-1910)
Today I begin a new life for I am the master of my abilities and today is going to be a great and beautiful day. — Tyrese Gibson, American singer and actor (1978- )
Sam, the fisherman, left early around four or five o’clock headed to a fishing lake two hours away. Word traveled the fish were hitting good. I awakened slightly to say, “Be safe” and went back to sleep. Three or four hours later I got up to embrace the morning, start the coffee maker, greet Wilhelmina, and step outside to the porch. The temperature was pleasant. The birds were singing, a turkey meandered along the sedge field looking for seed. Oddly enough the crows have been harassing the turkeys. Even though the turkeys are much larger, the crows are louder. The turkey moved into the sedge field away from the crows. The American goldfinch family are still abiding in the hanging globe on the porch, the one they made into a nest and are now feeding continuously their brood. The recycle bags needed to be put in the car to move to the recycle bins. I moved slowly so as not to disturb the birds feeding. They ignored me on several occasions and continued to feed each baby bird. I could see the parent bird leaning into the globe and drop a small worm or insect into the baby bird’s mouth. The parent bird would also snatch a bit off the meal back and give it to another baby bird. No bird got a full worm.
Wilhelmina sat beside me and watched but never moved near the birds in the globe. I encouraged Wilhelmina to follow me to the front porch so there would be no temptations. It was a beautiful morning, sitting quietly while all nature sang, the greening of the grass, flowers opening, daisies, lilies, mums, polka-dot-plant, verbena, petunias, impatiens, and more. The flowers had survived the heavy rain and the severe winds. The magnolia tree lost more leaves to be gathered again. Small sticks from the trees were also gathered up again and headed to the burn pile. There will always be a burn pile. Prairie soil is full of clay so that water remains longer. The water nourishes the grass, flowers, trees, and the driveway.
Out comes mud boots until the water and mud subsides. Then the grass can be mowed and the fields bushhogged. Large limbs near the “little lake” fell. We decided to leave them where they fell until they dry out and could be moved easily. More brush for the burn pile.
While I’m writing from the porch Wilhelmina is hiding behind the ligustrum shrub watching bluebirds fly back and forth from trees to bluebird boxes. They too are beautiful birds, especially the male birds. However, they are also quite fussy making you wonder if they ever get anything done while the American goldfinch work hard for the family without chatter. All in all, it’s a beautiful morning.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 41 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 41 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
