Checking out the progress of our new house construction, I had to scramble over piles of dirt. There, at my feet, was a feather. “Hawk,” I thought at first, but now I’m thinking more like owl. Either way, I take this find as a sign that the neighbors — the ones out there in the trees, anyway — are watching, and waiting for our arrival. Grateful for interesting discoveries at my feet. Had I not been climbing piles of dirt, my eyes would never have strayed to my path and to the feather shed there. I would have been the poorer.
Posts by Jennifer Johnston Crow
Close your eyes. Imagine sitting by a small pond, fed by a continuous cascade of water slipping down the rocks. You breathe in deeply — wildflowers share their fragrance, the herbs their savory goodness. You listen to the zzzzzipping of hummingbirds flitting from flower to flower and stopping to rest a moment on a branch.
Heaven, right? Grateful that my sister has created that kind of heaven in her backyard. I could sit there for hours.