As a Bird!

So, I never went to sleep last night. Guess what this led to? (Aside from the usual, 'gadzooks, what's today again?' body rythm out of whackyness,  mean.)

I decided to greet the sun this morning.

Didn't quite go as I expected . . . for one, Dusty, the grey bossy fluffy cat, left a 'present' on the walkway. If I'd stepped in it, I'd likely have shrieked and gone 'ew, ew, ew!!!!' for a good fifteen minutes. As it happened, I thought to look down and, oh, I'm standing next to a bunch of ant's doing their equivilent of going to the butcher shop. It's weird . . . Seeing it, I wasn't really sad, or even grossed out. I just thought . . . 'oh, there's the cycle of life.' Dusty caught the mouse, the mouse died, and now that he's eaten out it's belly, the ants and birds get their share. Who am I to intervene?

Other than that . . . I never quite got to the other side of the forty-acre property to see the sun rise. I did, however, do something else.

Saying hello to the birds is fun.

It's amazing how different it is out here as compared to suburbia. One of the reasons I live it so much, I suppose. Down South, I generally hear a couple of sparrows each morning, if that. Here . . . Crows in the giant oak tree, songbirds, robins, yet more sparrows . . . A hundred thousand different tunes, and I immediately started smiling. I copied their songs with my whistle, sang 'Green Finch and Linnet Bird,' spun in circles, hugged my self, smiled and sang again, his time 'Sing Sweet Nightingale' and . . . it's the best morning I can ever remember having. The air is cool and fresh, I can hear the whole earth waking up, and all I wanted to do was smile, laugh, dance like no-one was watching.

So I did. And I waved at the birds when they flew overhead. I whistled at the crows, and . . . I meant to be outside just a few minutes. Try fifteen. I just . . . found my bliss, I suppose. I think I needed it. I want to bottle up the morning, so I can always keep it with me.

I'm gonna head out again. Happy 6 AM!

So much joy,

 - Janie L.