In the Arizona backyard, 5:30 am, still dark, I’m writing by my phone flashlight. I contemplated turning on the patio lights, but I really want to see the morning break. The skyline is silhouettes of palm trees and cactus. There is a hint of pink just above the rooflines and the stars are beginning to fade. I love to imagine the bunnies that live in a cozy burrow beneath the lantana bush are still a-snooze and the quail are roosting or nesting, whichever it may be. In an hour or so, when the sun trades places with the half moon, but before the heat of the day, I will enjoy a wild life show.
There is a block of birdseed in the yard and daybreak will bring the covey. The quail circle and peck and talk, as a family around the breakfast table. Soon a pair of flickers flit down from the palm tree they’ve been tat-tatting on, which must serve as an invitation to the bunnies who venture out and warily hop on the scene. The hummingbirds aren’t seed eaters, but they zoom in and around before zipping off to the bright yellow and orange blooms that nod in the light breeze. Bless the beasts.
I always kind of chuckle and think of how I really was conditioned by Walt Disney every Sunday night. From his desk, he’d welcome us into a wonderful world as we welcomed him into our living rooms. Lonesome cougars, mischievous racoons and playful otters. Not to mention the forest friends; squirrels, mice, birds, who all worked together to make sure Cinderella made an impression at the ball.
Is my view tinted rose? 2020 has been quite a year and we’ve a quarter of it to go. It’s hard not to get caught up in the despair that pours out daily as if the floodgates have been opened. There is a real struggle to balance ‘being informed’ with ‘argghhh’, not only by all of the current events, but the pall lingering from loss on so many levels.
This morning as the sky lightens (Ha! I can turn off my flashlight!) there is a whole new flock of birds at the seed block. Something between a quail and a dove. The bunnies have slipped from their cover and they nibble as the birds peck and they share sustenance in the light of dawn. I wish I could sketch. I could pull the shades of gray away from the tumbled stone in a way my camera cannot. I’d love to draw the flash of white when they spread their wings, and the soft gold of their downy breast. Instead, I will tuck these images into my heart and view them in my minds eye through my rose colored glasses, while humming an old Cat Stevens tune…
Peace. Love. Amen.