There’s a place into which we seek shelter from the storm of life. Most of us have more than one. There are reasons for that. Some storms are live at a certain address. But that’s a different story.
Today, we look into the greening world of Mark’s swampland estate. In deeper understanding of this, I have a stray cat next to me helping provide the gem of a cold wet morning dew. (I wish I could share but this app has,enough issues at times) We have several local birds making the rounds at the feeder.
The bright green leaves of the oak hide a flock. All birds of a different feather. The smallest, the wren sings out near one of his four nests. The ladies get to pick out one, or move on. Chickadees, sparrows, and tufted titmice buzz bright red Cardinals and much larger Blue Jay’s. Cooper’s Hawks yell at each other in the distance. A loud truck on the road out front dispatches the flock. Like tiles in a video game, they shift and reassemble with the colors all out of place.
The plant world is shaking of that long winter hangover. The trees flex their new leaves. They have a jingle sound. Maybe like a dancer with bells on their costume. Pink and red columbine bloom are graceful stalks swaying along with the breeze’s rhythm. Peace pushes away the rest of the world.
Plunk! The silent frog forgets I’m out here. He starts to sing. No one answers. But a stray cat looks his way.
The musical link is here for the title