Singing in the Rain!

Did you ever notice that the birds sing even on a rainy morning?

I awoke to a robin singing a sweet spring song outside my window. It’s such a pleasure to be able to leave the windows open again while we sleep.

I knew the weather was predicted to be rainy and possibly stormy, and I had already resolved that we wouldn’t be landscaping today. Spring rains are a sure way to slow down my work. 

And sometimes, that's okay - Especially on a Monday!

What I did not expect was that despite the dreary, wet morning, the birds were still going to sing, as if nothing could deter them from their joy and purpose.

Perhaps we need to be more like the birds.

Too often I let the troubles of life weigh me down. Sometimes it makes it hard for me to see the sunshine. Sometimes I wish it would be a gloomy day to match my mood.

It isn't often that this dark mood dampens my spirits. I have been blessed with a rather sunny disposition (most of the time), and it can drive some people crazy as there are  those who prefer a rather damp temperament.

But most people are drawn to those who seem to exude the joy of life through everything they do. We all know someone like that. These are the people whom you wonder, “How can they be happy all the time?”

I believe it is a choice to be happy. Nobody is happy all the time. Life deals its lot of joy and sadness without thought to where it lands. Much like when I spread fertilizer by hand. 

Sometimes too much here or there, but usually it’s pretty evenly distributed. 

We have to choose joy like the songbirds.

Earlier this spring, when snow and ice still predominated the landscape and the morning temperatures were below zero, I walked outside and heard the birds singing their early springtime songs.  It gave me such hope!

After months of long, frigid nights and not a spot of color in the landscape, these sweet feathered harbingers of joy began to announce that most assuredly spring would come.

And indeed it did! May is busting out all over. Trees are either blooming or sporting a new growth of baby green leaves. Tulips and daffodils dot the landscape with their bright heads stalwartly defying strong winds and storms.

Perhaps we are more like the bulb plants. We hide in the darkness of our winters, but we must have the tenacity to reach for the light.

A bulb grows slowly through the thawing ground, unbeknownst to us. Gradually the leaves and stem emerge, reaching ever skyward as the stalk grows longer and stronger.

Sort of a resurrection, all of this life returning from a frozen world.

We can begin again. We can reach for the Light of the world and we can choose to continue to grow.

And for our own good, we can choose to be happy.

Life isn’t about the things we have. Sure, we like to have nice things and we certainly need clothing and shelter.

But I believe life is more than these things. It is a journey.

Though the road stretches out before us, and for some of us, winds a long way behind, we can only see the part that is right before us.

Think of walking on a path. We can only concentrate on the part that is under our feet. We can’t see where the twists and turns of the future (path) will lead us.

And so, we must not worry about what is ahead.

We must live in the moment, enjoying the gifts of life, slowing down long enough to enjoy the sound of raindrops after months of not hearing them. Savoring the song of the birds as they rejoice in the new life all around them.

Every day holds some joy. Those that choose to live in that joy will find it. Sometimes it takes more effort to come out of our darkness to see the light.

But it is definitely worth the effort to feel the sun on our face once again.

Look for the joys, the little surprises that this new season brings to us. They’re not hard to find when life is being created practically right before our eyes.

I hope the joys of springtime help you find your way out of the darkness. Savor the moments that replenish your spirit.






As you find those moments, you will soon fill your days with more joys than sorrows, and propel yourself into a new way of seeing life on this big, green world.




Happy Springtime, everyone! 

Late Summer Beauty

I watched as raindrops fell in earnest, and then I noticed the maple leaves. They were moving in a dance of sorts, but there was no wind. They shimmered and fluttered, and I discovered that the source of their movement was the raindrops. Each droplet hitting the flat leaf surface caused it to move independently of the leaf next to it. There was no wind to move the leaves. Just rain. And lots of it.

There is beauty everywhere, if we will just pause long enough to see it.

On a sunny day, a fluttering shadow seen from the corner of my vision turned out to be a lovely yellow swallowtail butterfly. August seems to be their season, and they love my hanging baskets. I’ve seen then in springtime, too, as they dance upon the late blooming lilacs. Then they seem to disappear until summer is nearly over. I wonder where they go.

An early migrating flock of robins paused for a few days in our yard just recently. They are the harbingers of springtime, and come by the dozens as the ground warms, offering worms for their feast; as they in turn offer their delightful songs as a feast for my winter weary ears.

But this flock was migrating back through in mid-August, and they decided my bird bath was the place to be. They encircled the bird bath, on branches and twigs, on peonies and the soft, green grass. Each one in turn, splashing and playing as they bathed in the cool water. One time, two got in the bath at the same time! I’ve never seen that before. Usually they are fairly territorial, at least at bath time.

On another day, a bright red cardinal decided to check out the bird bath. He stood at one edge, and gracefully leaped to the other side, managing to drag his little feet in the water as he crossed over it. Was he testing the water? It seemed so, as he decided it was ‘just right’, and hopped in for a bath. Splashing and fluffing, once he was done, he glided straight up to a branch above the birdbath to primp his feathers and dry them off.

There has been a fat hummingbird moth poking its head into my little petunias. His wings move so quickly, and his fat little body seems awkward for those tiny wings. But oh how he delights in those purple petunias, diving into each one in turn, burying his pointed head to sip a little nectar while I water the plants in the garden around him. And because I am watering when I see him, I never have my camera with me, so I haven't been able to capture a picture of him yet.

Our little family of hummingbirds returned this year, though I'm pretty sure the patriarch of years past no longer survived the journey. He was looking a little haggard last year, and the little hummers here this summer look very youthful. I hope these young summer visitors know the routine. In years past, my hummingbird friends always came to the window to say goodbye; and I think, maybe, to say "thank you" for the sweet sugar water I've given them all summer. They hover outside my office window, which is on the other side of the house from their feeder, as if they are letting me know they are off to new adventures. It is always bittersweet for me to see them go, as it signals the end of summer. Cooler winds will soon bring great changes to the landscape.

For now, the summer sun beats down, and the grass needs cutting again. My flowers are still dazzling in their summer show, and every day there are tomatoes to pick from the vegetable garden.

Quiet Sunday afternoon naps in the hammock bring a peace that can’t be found in the dead of winter. There is so much beauty to behold. Pause, and breathe in all that summer has for us to enjoy. These are the gifts of our Creator, given for us to enjoy in this world. As summer slips away, I savor the flavor and taste of summer, and I relish the warmth and the beauty of stepping out into a warm summer day.

The morning dew is heavy on the grass now as the nights become cooler again. The seasons seem to change much more quickly now than when I was young. I embrace the change, but also want to hold onto this slice of life that is summer, for at least a little bit longer.