Sunday, August 5, 2012

August 5, 2012

Our garden is bursting with life and color these June days.  Flawless skies are a magical shawl gently extended over the world, and from where I am sitting writing about these things—the big square kitchen table, the garden is being serenaded by cheerful morning melodies of birds singing their signature songs.  Windows were already wide open; curtains dance forlomly in the morning breezes, and from outside comes a chant; a spell if you may in the form of the purest of light and sweet scents of the honeysuckle. 

From my peripheral vision I catch sight of a vivid splash of yellow against the greenery... only a while ago the North American Tanager visiting the garden were just some drab little birds among the many swallows feeding from the birdfeeders outside the kitchen window, but the dullness of winter is behind, and today their bright yellow spring plumage are a joy to the soul, and their tinkling, canary-like song pervades the morning with a sort of magic that pleases the ear and lift up the spirit.
The flying patterns of the North American Tanager never cease to astonish.  They practically swim the air; making waves as they go from tree to tree, like a professional surfer would do in the water.  Zoom... whoosh they go in front of you and above you and all around you; and they’re so fast and so attune with the air under their wings, that you cannot help but laugh in amazement at these little creatures. 
The pull of gravity is not a concern to these little birds... they make invisible ripples, and they plunge into the air, and they ride the winds and create an illusion of, what to me is a perfect pipe-like space like the barrel where surfers can fit inside. 

 I’m certain that God walks in my garden too.  He has been silently unfolding buds, filling the garden with color and hope as he smiles thinking of me and the joy and delight the moment I discover the gift he’s scattering for me.  Wherever a flower breathes its scent upon the breeze, wherever there are roses to enchant the soul and cool lush grasses to dream on or a tree to lend its shade, I will find my Creator there.  Is pure enchantment here, and I can only walk through my garden with reverent steps and worshipping eyes... as if I trod on holy ground. 

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