This morning, as I lay on the couch, staring out the door, I
found myself deep in thought.
So deep, I
wasn’t sure where I’d gone.
Maybe in
the mountains, in a cozy cabin, warm fire burning, with the love of my life.
Maybe in the world outside my door.
It’s a very gray day.
Dreary. It’s wet and soggy from
the rain. The trees are almost naked as
the last of the leaves float down to the yard, joining the carpet beneath. Squirrels
are up to their usual antics, curling their bushy tails as they dance and
prance about snatching every bird seed they can. They fly from deck to rail to limb to arbor. But they will never know how much I enjoy
them.
Birds are pecking away at the feeders, devouring both seed
and suet. They are skirting across the
deck, hopping around, flying to a shrub and back again, looking for a free spot
at the table.
(Thankfully, they seem oblivious
to the chatter and the swooshing tail of the cat inside.
Or sometimes at the kitchen sink.) They sing, they chirp, they speak, they call,
they tweet, they squeak, they chat, and yes, they twitter.
They gather around and flap about in the bird
bath.
But they will never know how much I enjoy
them.
I’m fascinated.
Make no mistake. The world outside my door is
enchanting.
I take many pictures, trying to capture the
unmistakable beauty of the world outside my door.
On this misty, gray, dreary day, I’m actually quite content.
