We awoke early this morning to lightning flashes and rumbling thunder followed by sleet pelting the window. Barley, who usually sleeps on his pad in our bedroom, huddled up against my side of the bed, and I reached down to pat him. Outside, the chilled air was a bit of a shock to the system after several balmy days, but it didn't deter the Carolina chickadee from singing its sweet 4-note song, nor did it stop the scheduled dance of the wild turkeys. Several turkeys have been frequenting our fields, and 3 gobblers were displaying for the hens today, dragging their wing tips and rotating slowly, inviting the light to catch every glimmer of their iridescent feathers, while moving their feet in the slow, mincing steps of a dance they knew before they were born.
There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven...