Day 14:
"In everything give thanks for this is the will of God . . ."
"In everything give thanks for this is the will of God . . ."
The nine days of Thanksgiving break have begun. Early this morning a small herd of deer came meandering through The Acres. They took the exact same path as Tom, Mom and the Seven Young Turks took all summer into fall. Slip out of the trees near the driveway up near the cave. But stay just on the edge. Move quietly across the driveway past the hickories, swing through the side yard, and slide through the trees into the meadow. Is there some kind of invisible animal "road signs" that I can't see. "Come out here from the woods." "Linger and munch for awhile but stay close to the shelter of the trees." "Cross here by the hickories. Turn left past the blackberry bush." "Enter the meadow here." Strange--but fascinating.
Nature in cahoots?
And why is it the goldfish in the pond love a thin layer of ice on the surface. When that happens "word" must get around quickly because up they come by the hundreds. They just float there under the ice--beautiful but content. Why is an ice roof so valued?
And when I feed my feathered friends in the morning, there is a natural pecking order. A few minutes of bird chatter--blue jays must be in charge of the megaphones. Then, first and always first are the hit-and-run feeders--chickadees, titmouse, nuthatches. No one else stops by and settles in until they have first made their incursions multiple times. Are they the scouts of the bird world? Do their tactics make them safer than the other birds--draw out any predators that are in the area but too slow to nab them as they flit in and quickly out again?
I do not know how it all works. But it is fascinating and beautiful. Follow your paths and road signs creatures. Bask in your cold tub of ice. Send in the scouts. Ah, the beauty of the earth and its creatures spoken into existence by the God of Creation who cares for them all. And the old man watching them!
Nature in cahoots?
And why is it the goldfish in the pond love a thin layer of ice on the surface. When that happens "word" must get around quickly because up they come by the hundreds. They just float there under the ice--beautiful but content. Why is an ice roof so valued?
And when I feed my feathered friends in the morning, there is a natural pecking order. A few minutes of bird chatter--blue jays must be in charge of the megaphones. Then, first and always first are the hit-and-run feeders--chickadees, titmouse, nuthatches. No one else stops by and settles in until they have first made their incursions multiple times. Are they the scouts of the bird world? Do their tactics make them safer than the other birds--draw out any predators that are in the area but too slow to nab them as they flit in and quickly out again?
I do not know how it all works. But it is fascinating and beautiful. Follow your paths and road signs creatures. Bask in your cold tub of ice. Send in the scouts. Ah, the beauty of the earth and its creatures spoken into existence by the God of Creation who cares for them all. And the old man watching them!
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