This Sunday afternoon, rain is gently touching the earth and silently speaking to my garden. In a couple of days, what it said will, hopefully, be apparent. I know that the tender corn will have a growth spurt.
The house wren is checking out my porch again. I reckon she thought a hanging basket would be there, waiting for her, with extra materials to build a fine next. Since I decided to omit live baskets of flowers this year, the songstress seemed disappointed.
I went to a little blue shed at the end of the road to find her a temporary home. A shelter where if she so desired, could lay her eggs and hatch her young, out of harms way.
I searched high and low for a nicely painted dipper gourd that a deceased friend gave me three years ago. Where could it be?
This absent-minded confessor visited that building several times and searched both garages, two other outbuildings and the brooder house.
After too much time dealing with frustration and falling just short of accusing someone with playing games with me, I pulled my busy fingers from my scalp and allowed my head to rest.
My mother was always searching for stuff in our crowded three-room home when I was a kid and continued the rest of her days to do the same. If dad didn't send her on a hunt and seek mission, she would be looking just to be looking for this or that.
Almost always after rummaging through their belongings, she came across what she searched so diligently to find and some items she was not looking for, but was always glad that they showed up.
I asked her once why she repeatedly searched the same places when looking for lost papers and things. I usually search through a drawer or closet once and either find what I am looking for or do not and eliminate that place from my quest.
She explained that I you keep returning to the place you think it should be, very often, your lost item shows up right under your nose.
So it was I returned to the little blue shed at the end of the road to look for the gourd house that, my dear friend, Fern Stewart, gave me shortly before her untimely demise. That little wren was waiting in the wings and I aimed to deliver the glossy glitter covered dipper.
As I was checking the long spike nails loaded with wicker baskets and other hanging things, smack dab in the middle of the back wall, near the ceiling, there my special gift hung.
The blue hand-painted gourd was hiding beneath the muslin feed sack that I saved to carry me back to another day.
Well, I carefully removed the leather hanger of the bird's temporary abode from the nail and dusted off the find. Singers, like Lady Wren, shouldn't swallow too much dust.
I hung my treasure on the hook nearby the porch ceiling and waited for the bird that was then perched in the trellis against the catalpa tree. She was rocking back and forth singing a melodious tune.
I returned to the house, poured a cup of hot coffee and one for Paul too. We watched and watched while the excited bird took her time investigating the goodwill offering.
By that time, our little dachshund, Ms. Tootie Mae Sartor, awoke from her sleeping next and tried to check out what was going on beyond the screen door. What was that bird up to? With such a small window available to her, how would she know without a lift from a loved one? She is so easy to read.
Then, just as I had hoped, the bird and Toot spotted the gourd at the same time. The bird landed on the tiny perch that Fern added to the gourd house and Tootie looked on in awe.
She saved her little voice, but got so excited she had an accident. The little relieved girl wagged her tail through it all
Now, knowing the habits of the house hunter, she may be dry shopping or more in and then change her mind, before the first egg drops from her dainty holding tank. She is a fickle and finicky lady.
Last night, I could not sleep. Sometimes that happens when stress rules my mind and my aging body takes too much of a work-related beating before I lay me down to rest.
At the first sign of daylight this morning, I heard one little bird singing in the cedars outside of my window.
I got up and looked out through the living room window at the park-like setting of this place.
Two young deer were munching leaves from the lower branches of the stately maple, just beyond the old well. Sorry to say, one little deer was limping because of an injured front leg. Two rabbits and an adult squirrel were feeding next to the happy tiger lilies.
The curious brown bird landed on the porch rail nearby the kitchen window repeatedly.
I opened the back door. The rain had refreshed everything. Honeysuckle, in bloom, sent its pleasant fragrances to my nostrils and my day got off to a good start on a high note!
Despite the rain, everything was beautiful.
The pleasures are ever so simple, but oh so easy to love. God is good to give me so much to appreciate -- more than I could ever hope for and I am very grateful every day of my life.
I can be reached by phone at 446-4852 or by e-mail at email@example.com.