Direction

I've been watching the birds lately. I like to do that in the fall. I've noticed that the geese seem to have a strong sense of purpose, community, and direction. They start flying in small flocks, in their orderly 'vee' formation, one flock joining together with another, then another, then another, until the flock is hundreds strong and can probably be seen on radar. No matter how large the formation becomes they all manage to keep pretty much together for miles upon miles. Pretty amazing instinct and direction, when you think about it... amazing order and grace.

But you get used to the geese, and their patterns become mundane. When that happens, keep an eye on the smaller birds, the ones that in the late afternoon line themselves up by the hundreds on power and phone lines. Like a small winged army they align and realign themselves, flitting from line to line, rearranging the pecking order until suddenly the whole group darts into the air, swarming like flies or confused hornets, back and forth in changing patterns. They seem to have no sense of where they are going, or who is the leader as they flit and flutter as one constantly changing cloud across the darkening sky. It is a mesmerizing vision to behold. I think maybe this is more amazing than the flocks of geese... seemingly without sense or order, this huge swarm of birds will find their way south, just as the geese do.

A Morning Worth Seeing

You know, I've never really considered myself a morning person. I admit it. I'd rather just stay in my cozy bed and sleep till noon most days. Unfortunately, having responsibilities, and not having a night job, I don't get the luxury of lounging in the mornings. Lately, though, I've learned to appreciate a morning. There are some things you just won't get to see any other time of day. Here's one of the beautiful things that make morning worthwhile.

Magnificent Morning

Ok, Ok, Ok... So I've been gone awhile. Seems my muse went on vacation for a time. But this morning...WOW! She showed me a sunrise, a magnificent sunrise... and since I didn't have a good camera with me, I guess I'll just have to use words.

It was an average Monday morning, up before the birds, the world still dark. I woke one bleary-eyed, oh so pleasant teenager, then crawled back into the warmth and fuzziness of my blankets for another half hour. I got up and fed the previously mentioned light of my life, got him out the door to meet the bus, the outside world still dark, chilly and wet...just...blah. I trudged up the stairs to wake the other happy teenager and light of my life...all the while thinking how much I'd like to crawl back into my bed for the day. But alas, that was not to be. Duty does call. I fed KID#2 and headed back up to the sanctuary of my shower, hoping that it's warm enveloping flow, in conjunction with that that frothy cup of mocha I had drunk would perk me up. I suppose it worked; at least when I was done, I had resigned myself to another day at work.

I gathered my breakfast and daily caffeine and headed for the car. I got in, buckled up and backed down the driveway. As I turned my head to the left, eastward, I noticed that the sun was slowly making itself known, its rays glowing up into the mostly cloudy morning sky, turning them from gray and white harbingers of rain to fluffy tufts, pink as cotton candy. The sky was beginning to look a little bluer in that direction. Not half bad for a Monday, I thought.

Then I looked to the west, and the sky there was still filled with heavy clouds, tinged with a little pink, looking for all the world like a nasty duststorm or worse was on the way. It was eerie looking, and under other circumstances (like living in tornado alley) I might have been nervous, but not this morning.

As I continued to drive west, and the sun continued to rise behind me, I watched as the clouds became lighter and pinker. As I came up over a rise, looking westward at a dark gray sky that I thought had yet to be graced by the sun, I saw a rainbow appear against the clouds. It was as though a light switch had been flipped on, and a neon rainbow just turned on. It wasn't there, and then, quite suddenly, it was. I leaned forward to see more of the western sky through my windshield as I drove. While I watched, and the sun continued to rise, a second, fainter rainbow began to show itself, just a little higher than the original. I followed the arc of both of them, and was blessed to see the other end of both of them.

I turned my head northward, just to get a glimpse of Blue Mountain, and its crest was glinting yellow and gold under the slow rise of the sun while its slopes remained dark, awaiting the caress of the suns rays.

By the time I got to work, the rainbow was no longer visible to me, and the rain was falling solidly down. I got out of the car and walked slowly towrd the building, walking under the canopy of golden leaved trees, rather than bothering with my umbrella. I stepped on at least a hundred acorns along the way, thinking the squirrels still have a lot of work to do, and listening to the rain slap the leaves of the trees (which, by the way, is one of the most wonderful sounds in the world).

Meanwhile, in the east, the sun continued to rise, doing what it must, despite the clouds and rain.

Nope, not bad for a Monday... pretty awesome, in fact.

Pay Attention

It's been a long time since I felt like putting my blatherings to print. I'd like to elaborate on what a busy, eventful summer it has been, that would only be exaggeration, if not an outright untruth. To be honest, it was just long, hot and a bit frustrating (hmmm...I guess that description fits other events as well.)

But, it is now past, and time moves on. School has begun; schedules are back in place, and all is right with the world...

I saw autumn sneaking in over the last week or so, changing a leaf color here and there, dropping a few dry ones in the gust of a cooling breeze. Before long, it'll be here in full force, and folks who failed to pay attention to Mother Nature will wake up one morning, look out their windows, and say, "When did THAT happen?"

I guess that can happen in more situations than the weather, too. I guess maybe that's where that cliche about life being what happens to you when you're not looking comes from.

Drowning

You opened up,
And I fell in.
I can't get out,
And I can't swim.

It has been said that drowning
Is a pleasant sensation,
Once one stops the struggle.
But I prefer not to live by assumptions.

Scary thought...midlife crisis definition

What happens if you set out to 'find yourself', and when you get there, you find nobody is home?

Second Wind

A few months back, I wrote about a branch in a tree that had broken off, but not fallen to the ground. That branch has hung in that tree since it's breakage, and has only slipped down further and become caught in the web of other branches of the tree. It's been there through winter snow, spring winds, and even the latest spate of intense rainstorms, hail, and wind that has caused massive flooding in most of the eastern half of Pennsylvania.

Now this tree has budded and bloomed pretty well, but I noticed something about it lately. It looks a little weak, a little barren and tired, despite the green of its leaves. Several of its higher branches look dead, or dying. Who knows? Maybe those barren branches are just like gray hair on people, evidence of making it through stressful times with most of oneself still in tact, pushing on regardless. I guess that tree will stand stand there through a few more seasons, doing its seasonal tree things, till it can't anymore. I guess we all kinda do that.