Friday, August 13, 2010

Doing What We Were Created to Do


This morning I took a lovely nature walk before the children awoke. (Well, actually, George stirred and gazed at me with half-opened eyes before drifting back off to sleep again.). I gingerly tiptoed out the back kitchen door, like I did yesterday morning. I was sure to remember to slip on my old sandals that are quite worn, since my good sandals got soaked and squishy the morning before because of the dew on the grass.

As I walked along, passing Raymond's big old barn (pictured above) -- which I investigated yesterday after hearing strange sounds, perhaps owls, coming from it -- I stopped and watched with awe a flock of barn swallows. They were smaller than I would imagine barn swallows to be, though, about the size of purple finches, or small bluebirds. Their little chests were a deep golden color (maybe enhanced by the glowing morning sun). Their backs were dark, appearing black, as well as their little heads. They were all lined up on the telephone wire, and as I gazed up toward the soft blue sky, I could see that their tail feathers appeared to come to a point, except some were like scissors upon closer inspection, with two points.

I observed one energetic little barn swallow in particular who was not ready to settle down upon the telephone wire with his friends. He rapidly flew away, dipped and twirled, darted here and there, soaring up high, zooming toward the dewy ground, only to gracefully lift again with mighty speed. I presume he was having breakfast (I believe barn swallows are notorious insect catchers), exuberantly enjoying the new morning and his endless freedom! I was mesmerized at length in watching his excitement about living and doing to the fullest what he was born to do! Ah! The joy!

Then a big loud truck came rambling by.

(Photo by Jimi Ann from our yard)

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