I recently switched from my winter sunrise-ritual spot, in the corner of our enclosed dining porch, to my spring location out here on the real porch. So much better for watching the hummingbirds fight over the feeder, for smelling the Texas Mountain Laurels in bloom, for trying to decipher the cacophony of bird songs I am hearing (what is that one that always sounds as if he's saying "Neener, neener, nee-ner" to the others?), for feeling perfect temps and gentle breezes (most days - tho sometimes it's more like gale-force winds), and for savoring the sound of rushing water in the creek, for as long as it lasts. No mosquitos have attacked me yet, no spiders have spun their "Keep Off!" webs across the seat of my favorite rocker, and the hordes of red wasps have yet to stake claim to the rafters. I am as happy as happy can be.
This is my church - the place where I feel most reverent. I cannot help but be awed by the miracles of life that surround me here, and the miracles of creativity that come to me, seemingly out of nowhere, if only I take the time to sit and listen. In this church, I am ever reminded of all that I have to be grateful for.
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2 comments:
This is a beautifully written post, very evocative of Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings' "Cross Creek." Lovely pic, beauteous thoughts---thank you.
Loved that movie! (with Mary Steenbergen, wasn't it?) I remember having daydreams after that, about being alone in a little cabin in the woods, typing away on an old- fashioned typewriter - and that was before the writing bug ever bit me!
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