Looking Up

A slight breeze ripples the surface of the lake this morning and it's quiet 

except for the hum of insects and the sound of small waves lapping against the rocks.

The sun rises and everything—clouds, mist, and and a ribbon of light on the lake's surface—turns to gold. 

As the light grows, a boat is made ready...

...and a solitary fisherman takes his hopes with him out on the water.

What will this day bring?

There will be treasures, if we look for them, and some will show themselves even when aren't looking. 

There may be rain, but after all, we know where rainbows come from.

One thing is certain; God's mercies will be here for the taking.

The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;

his mercies never come to an end;

they are new every morning;

great is your faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22, 23 (ESV)

Linking with Skywatch Friday

Two Birds

Roadrunner came for a visit the other day, stopping near the front of the house. 

He found a dead hummingbird, and catlike, played with his food.

It tasted like old shoe leather and he spit it out on the rocks.

"Am I really that hungry?"

"Nah! I'm outta here!"

Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday

Southbound

Two chilly nights and southbound geese overhead have me thinking about seasonal changes. Hummingbirds are tanking up for their trip to the Yucatan. Early in the morning, and just before dark, their activity around the feeders is intense.

The sun has warmed the rocks on the south side of the house, and I lean against them, facing the feeders, which are only a few inches away. It's an excellent place to observe the small winged warriors. Supper is over, and while Don watches a spy movie, I spend the pleasant part of an hour there, absorbed by their acrobatics, their chirps and the hum of their wings. Occasionally one of them hovers just in front of my face, trying to ascertain what kind of a creature is sharing their space, and I steel myself not to flinch. Their battles over the sugar water are swift and fierce. 

They fly back and forth between the feeders and the geraniums.

In a flowerpot at my side is Firecracker Cuphea, a plant the little birds also love. They light on the springy stems, riding them down almost to the ground, then up, pendulum-like, all the while pumping nectar out of the sweet purple and red blossoms. 

As the sky darkens, the chirps of the hummingbirds give way to the sounds of the night. I head inside, refreshed by the ambiance of the evening. And in the spy movie, the good guys win. 

Linking with Saturday's Critters
and Wild Bird Wednesday.

Lost and Found

We had a bit of a scare at our house last evening. At dinnertime, when I let Barley out the front door, a Black Snake slithered in. I screamed bloody murder, and Don came running. He trapped the snake with his boot while I went after the loppers; then I retreated, shaken, to the kitchen as he dispatched the snake. It was a mature Black Snake, not huge, but a good 2 feet long.

The calamity averted, we looked for Barley. Since coming to us last December, except when we've taken him places, he's never been out of sight of the house. He spends most of his time in the house with us, but sometimes we call him our driveway dog, because when we walk in the woods, he always runs home ahead of us, as if drawn to the house with a large magnet, and waits in the driveway. But last night, we didn't see him anywhere. Nor did he respond to our calling. Alarmed, Don noticed that the deer were still grazing on the north side of the house, so we knew he hadn't gone that way.  

Don got the pickup, and I joined him, and we headed for the road. At the highway, we saw where Barley had dropped his favorite stick. We thought he could be headed for Don's brother's place, a mile away, but Barley is not savvy about cars, and anything could happen. Across the highway and up the hill on the county road opposite ours, we found him, 1/4 mile from home, looking lost and lonely at the side of the road. With great relief, I got out of the truck and wrapped him in my arms, then he willingly jumped in the back seat, and rode with us back home. Once there, he sniffed the front door with great interest, then settled back into his routine, seemingly as relieved to be back home as we were to have him.

We trembled when we thought of the other possible outcomes for Barley.  But it's comforting to know that the God who watches over us doesn't confine His interest to people, He sees every bird that falls, He cares about every creature He has made, and He certainly cares about Barley.

In His hand is the life of every creature,

and the breath of every human being.

Job 12:10

First posted on 8/17/10

Save My Plant

Do you remember the girl in the 90's who lived in a redwood tree for two years to save it from getting cut down? In our yard, all it takes to save a plant is one tree frog.

It's like this--tidy gardening has never been my forte; I'm often hesitant about pulling weeds. Please don't jump to the conclusion that I'm lazy; it's just that the perennial question nags at me: "could this be a flower?"

In the flower bed in front of the house, there is a four foot mystery plant, and it looks out of place--a slender stalk with leaves but no blossoms, a full foot taller than the others. Since we have company coming tomorrow, I finally took out my pruners. This was the day it was going down.

Then, just as I was positioned to make the fatal cut, I saw it. Poised on a leaf on the tall, silly plant, was one very cute tree frog.

Ce sempre domani. There's always tomorrow.

Linking with Saturday's Critters

First posted on 7/25/10