For me, life is fairly simple: love God, love your neighbor, do your art. As a Christian, my first priority is loving God, and I believe a part of loving Him is being grateful for what He's given us. Here in the Ozarks, we have much to appreciate and enjoy. And so this blog attempts to do a little of this: appreciate God's wonders, and share them with you, my neighbors.
Wednesday, April 18, 2018
Slow Dance
The lead gobbler in our part of the woods has been putting on a grand show in the mornings, displaying for the hens. With his tail feathers fanned out, he opens and closes the iridescent feathers on his back, body and breast like a polka player's accordion. Below a bright red wattle, he extends one leg slowly, deliberately, then another. Pivoting in slow motion, his primary wing feathers dragging on the ground, he turns a full circle, giving the hens the opportunity to admire each of his shining feathers.
We admire them, too, and feel privileged to see it.
Thursday, April 5, 2018
First Responder
When a bird hits a window, the first thing I try to do is turn them right side up. It seems to increase their chances of survival. But today, I watched in amazement as the titmouse on the limb swooped down and righted his stunned companion.
A moment later, I had a second surprise. The First Responder Titmouse started viscously attacking the fallen one.
It wasn’t until I noticed another bird watching the fight from the tree, that a light flipped on in my brain. This was a fight over that sweet thing batting her eyelids in the tree branch. The bird on the ground wasn’t able to fly, but it could run pretty well. Still, it didn’t stand a chance. The aggressor pummeled him while he tried to escape, then flew up to the tree to bask in the admiring gaze of his cheerleader. This cycle was repeated several times.
Those little birds can tilt their head and look winsome, but when the claws come out, pity the underdog.
At last check, none of the birds were in sight, so I’ll have to assume that the vanquished bird picked up the pieces of his shattered life and moved on, and the happy couple is setting up housekeeping. I always hope for happy endings.
Friday, March 30, 2018
After the Rains
Our windows need washing, but I have the perfect excuse. It's been raining for 4 days and nobody washes windows in the rain. Besides providing excuses for all sorts of things, rainy nights are great for fires in the fireplace and popcorn with good movies. In the long range forecast, there was one sunny day, and it was today. Somehow, there wasn't time to wash the windows. Instead, I laced up my waterproof hiking boots and headed down to the hollow.
The GPS would designate this as the same location I've hiked on many occasions, but to my eyes and ears this morning, it seemed a very different place. The path was soggy underfoot, and before I reached the bottom, I could hear a chorus of streams.
The hands on my watch moved quickly in the hollow. A gnawing stomach reminded me that it was time for breakfast. I got up reluctantly and made my way back. Rue anemone and toothwort littered the uphill path.
Last year's flood altered this valley into an extension of the lake. When the water receded, things had changed. Where in former years one wet-weather creek flowed, 3 smaller, parallel streams now do summersaults over rocks and cut trenches in the sand. After wading across the streams this morning, I followed a deer trail north through a blanket of new green to see the dry creek bed I hiked in a couple of weeks ago. In its place, a small river now cuts through the valley. Some things are always changing.
With a boulder for an easy chair, I sat down and watched the churning water. Small waterfalls and eddies danced feverishly, catching the light in an ever changing display. Farther down, the stream slowed, exhausted by its exertion.
The hands on my watch moved quickly in the hollow. A gnawing stomach reminded me that it was time for breakfast. I got up reluctantly and made my way back. Rue anemone and toothwort littered the uphill path.
Wednesday, February 28, 2018
Mikey
Once in a while, while shooting pictures for Don's real estate company, I get a pleasant surprise.
At a beautiful country home north of Gainesville, MO, I met Mikey, a friendly one-year-old cat.
He followed me from room to room as I was taking pictures,
and in the master bedroom, he jumped up on the bed, looked straight into the camera, and smiled!
Saturday, November 11, 2017
As the Deer
As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, O God.
Linking with Saturday's Critters
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