Breakfast in my Backyard
I awoke to the melody of a Cardinal calling. In my semi-awake, semi-asleep state, I could picture the beautiful red bird atop the dogwood tree in my front yard. I could see him raising his body as he sang, contrasting against the pure blue above, inhaling air and producing music like that of a skilled musician. Singing in many directions - to the north, to the south, to the east and west. Like reverie at boot camp, it was time to get up.
Like the Cardinal, I have my morning routine. I stumble down the hallway, trying to avoid furniture and new bruises on my shins, going for a vitamin and large glass of water in my destination - the kitchen. But, I am drawn to looking outside. I go to the front door and search for movement in the yard. Then, to the back door, and today I was in luck. As my sleep-filled eyes strained to focus, I noticed a small, stout, brown little figure land on a chair in my backyard. It was a Carolina wren, fresh and full of morning energy, hopping along the faded Adirondack chair and searching in every crack and crevice of the worn and deteriorating piece of furniture.
But, then there were two and then three and then four! It was a whole family out for breakfast on my back patio. Four, busy, curious, mischievous little fluffs of energy, searching like detectives for clues to where the next morsel of a meal would be. I smiled as the two parents flew away and then back again while the two youths sat somewhat stationary, waiting for a fresh insect as they opened their beaks for breakfast, served fresh from mom and dad and my backyard. What a joy to wake up to this small, but significant piece of nature on a Friday morning!
The sun’s rays now stretched across the damp ground, causing weeds and blades of grass to shimmer with moisture remaining from the storm of the previous night. My wife calls from the next room, “What are you doing in there?” My response is delayed for fear that my voice will alert the wrens to their audience. Time for my breakfast, time to begin the day. Hoping yours, like mine, begins well.