These are troubling times in the course of American History, if not the world. There is a tenor voice throughout the land that renders our former causes insignificant. There are tens of thousands sick and thousands dying. Therefore, I would like to recommend something that has helped me cope with these unsettling times. But, before I do, I wanted to share some things with you.
Like millions of other folks, my bride and I are “sheltering in place.” But we like each other’s company and relish our warming relationship. We augment our day with phone calls, checking on family and friends. And we write every day, and take long cuddling naps and talk in whispers about private things, expressing intimacies. Or sometimes just shop talk on why I forgot the clothes in the dryer and when I am going to clean the oven. She does the cooking and I clean the house and work in the yard.
Each afternoon we walk, and often go down to a hidden park that has a spring fed lake. The lake is called Emerald Lake. It is surrounded by a wide variety of trees like: birch, aspen, willow, cottonwood, oak and mesquite. On the far bank from the dam, where we sit on a wooden bench is a whole plantation of cattails.
As the evening progresses, frogs sing their bass filled symphony. The cattails wave a hello to wrens, sparrows and blackbirds as they scamper playful before they settle down for restful sleep.
Photo: envato elements
Among nearby reeds, swirls of surface water can be seen as minnows and small perch feed on insects or sometimes each other. A surface splash tells of a hungry bass finding his dinner. It is too early for the beavers. There is still just enough light to see the far side of the other bank near the small spillway when we spot the interloper. He drinks with his eyes looking straight out, and ears up as his chin dips into the water. Rustling bird noise from high in the oak trees send him away quickly into the high grass toward home.
Earlier we hear the calling of a dove. Calling to her mate sitting on the nest or nearby branch. She is probably telling him she had a good day gathering grain and will be home soon. He replies hurry because a storm is on the way. I miss you, she calls. The chicks are just fine, he replies. Doves mate for life and if one dies, the survivor lives alone. They take turns taking care of the squabs. As it should be in all families.
The breeze from the lake is getting cooler. Birds sense the storm and make an uncomfortable racket. The wind walks through the treetops and causes a slight puckering of the water surface in the shallow end.
Timid moon beams make silent music as she hides behind a northerly bank of clouds. JoAnn snuggles deeper into my sweater. I assure her we will leave for home shortly.
It’s the trees that appear most majestic to me. Like friendly sentinels that have a happy personality and all seem to be talking at once. This love affair for trees started with the reading of a book by Deni Ackerman and Robin Arrieta, “Tree People Revealed (A Discovery of the Sacred Life of Trees).”
