Cats and Catbirds

This cat loves to sleep on the porch swing where she can watch the birds come and go to the feeders and dream of catching one for supper.
Another favorite hangout is inside a cozy birdcage that was stored in the garage. The door latch was broken and the cats started taking turns sleeping inside. We call them our catbirds.

This black and white kitten came to live on our farm when Margaret moved and couldn’t take her along. 
She is a beautiful cat.

Cats and Catbirds

This cat loves to sleep on the porch swing where she can watch the birds come and go to the feeders and dream of catching one for supper.
Another favorite hangout is inside a cozy birdcage that was stored in the garage. The door latch was broken and the cats started taking turns sleeping inside. We call them our catbirds.

This black and white kitten came to live on our farm when Margaret moved and couldn’t take her along. 
She is a beautiful cat.

Azalea Gardens in Muskogee, Oklahoma

One April morning in Muskogee those azaleas begin to burst open. Everyone has been waiting.
Horse drawn carriages carry the park visitors  around to see the park set on the hills west of town.
Horses are one of the many happy sights.
Ducks and geese are another!
Friends stop to rest on one of the docks that surround the pond.
(Alton, Evan, Julie, Brenna, and Quinton)
One of my favorite azaleas is this wonderful pink variety.
A bride and her maid-of-honor ride in the white carriage.
White azaleas for the bride.
Azaleas are sold at the Festival in April.
This one and the pink favorite above, I bought and have enjoyed in my yard the last few years.
These friends have a tradition of visiting the gardens every spring for a picnic and a hike up the waterfall trail.
These friends have a tradition of enjoying the flowers too.
Don’t miss out on the gardens this year. Tulips and dogwood bloom early, and then azaleas, and later the park shows roses. There is a boardwalk around the pond, a gift and flower shop, and a playground. There are picnic tables under shade trees and a baseball field where children fly kites.
The Azalea Gardens are wonderful!

Azalea Gardens in Muskogee, Oklahoma

One April morning in Muskogee those azaleas begin to burst open. Everyone has been waiting.
Horse drawn carriages carry the park visitors  around to see the park set on the hills west of town.
Horses are one of the many happy sights.
Ducks and geese are another!
Friends stop to rest on one of the docks that surround the pond.
(Alton, Evan, Julie, Brenna, and Quinton)
One of my favorite azaleas is this wonderful pink variety.
A bride and her maid-of-honor ride in the white carriage.
White azaleas for the bride.
Azaleas are sold at the Festival in April.
This one and the pink favorite above, I bought and have enjoyed in my yard the last few years.
These friends have a tradition of visiting the gardens every spring for a picnic and a hike up the waterfall trail.
These friends have a tradition of enjoying the flowers too.
Don’t miss out on the gardens this year. Tulips and dogwood bloom early, and then azaleas, and later the park shows roses. There is a boardwalk around the pond, a gift and flower shop, and a playground. There are picnic tables under shade trees and a baseball field where children fly kites.
The Azalea Gardens are wonderful!

Announcing Spring!

Like the ruffled skirts of Texas square dancers—the petals of the daffodils stand out and unfurl to wave spring under our hungry noses—to wave yellow—from creamery butter yellow, to pastel Easter egg yellow, to lemon pie custard yellow, to egg yolk.

The flower trumpets—some slender and waxy—some wide and fluted—others round and short blare out to the world the good news. Daffodils are the voice of spring. They shout to our shuttered winter-weary brains, “Hey, you! Spring is here! Yes, it is. Believe it!”

Nothing in nature is yellow in winter. Even the goldfinch is drab gray and pale olive in the winter and doesn’t put on his bright uniform until spring has arrived. All the yellows of fall leaves and bright Chrysanthemums fade and disappear. All the yellows of our world disappear come winter and everything turns gray and brown.

The forsythia sends up yellow pennants on its shooting star branches. The wind comes to dance with her and wave the blue birds to their nesting boxes. You can hear spring coming—just up the road coming closer—humming—not singing out loud yet—just humming the refrain—the promise.

 

Summer will come with sunshine on yellow dandelions, on yellow tulip blossoms, on roses, on marigolds and black-eyed-Susans, on yellow sulphurs flitting over a sky-reflecting puddle, the yellow of a grandbaby’s silky sun-drenched hair, the yellow of promise, the yellow of joy.

The desert and the dry land will become happy; the desert will be glad and will produce flowers. Like a flower, it will have many blooms. It will show its happiness, as if it were shouting for joy.
Isaiah 35 1-2 NCV

Announcing Spring!

Like the ruffled skirts of Texas square dancers—the petals of the daffodils stand out and unfurl to wave spring under our hungry noses—to wave yellow—from creamery butter yellow, to pastel Easter egg yellow, to lemon pie custard yellow, to egg yolk.

The flower trumpets—some slender and waxy—some wide and fluted—others round and short blare out to the world the good news. Daffodils are the voice of spring. They shout to our shuttered winter-weary brains, “Hey, you! Spring is here! Yes, it is. Believe it!”

Nothing in nature is yellow in winter. Even the goldfinch is drab gray and pale olive in the winter and doesn’t put on his bright uniform until spring has arrived. All the yellows of fall leaves and bright Chrysanthemums fade and disappear. All the yellows of our world disappear come winter and everything turns gray and brown.

 

The forsythia sends up yellow pennants on its shooting star branches. The wind comes to dance with her and wave the blue birds to their nesting boxes. You can hear spring coming—just up the road coming closer—humming—not singing out loud yet—just humming the refrain—the promise.

Summer will come with sunshine on yellow dandelions, on yellow tulip blossoms, on roses, on marigolds and black-eyed-Susans, on yellow sulphurs flitting over a sky-reflecting puddle, the yellow of a grandbaby’s silky sun-drenched hair, the yellow of promise, the yellow of joy.

The desert and the dry land will become happy; the desert will be glad and will produce flowers. Like a flower, it will have many blooms. It will show its happiness, as if it were shouting for joy.
Isaiah 35 1-2 NCV

Dear God,

Thanks for the sounds of today. A hawk is calling as he soars across the orchard. I love to hear the birds, the meadowlarks perched on the barbed wire fence, the hawks wheeling, the chattering of the songbirds, the ka-plink, ka-plink, ka-plunk of the cowbirds (like berries landing in Sal’s mother’s bucket), the cooing of doves, the lonesome night call of a whippoorwill, and the owls stirring up the night air.

So many lovely sounds and mixed with the tree frog choruses and the laughter of children and the whistle of a tea kettle, the hesitant notes of a child learning to play a piano, a far off train whistle, make our world a place of beauty–a wonderland of sound.

We all have favorite sounds, sounds that spell peace, comfort, joy, freedom, and excitement to our ears. I am so glad that you created voices, music, birdsong, and even the sounds of a flowing stream, waves on the shore, wind in the treetops, a baby’s coo and cry.

Help me to be alive to sound, to hear it, to study it, to feel it, to know it. Thanks, God.

Love you,
Elece