It's a very stormy Thanksgiving Day where I live. The wind is gusting at 30-40 miles per hour. I hear that there could be minor tidal flooding due to an onshore wind and high tide gauged to be at about 12 feet. Wow ~ winter is here. And I'm grateful for it. I could not be the person who lives in the sunny south, each day bringing 80 degree temps and full sun. Call me crazy. The seasons are to savor.
The Anna's hummingbird is swooping in for a drink during wind lulls. Actually I've seen two at the feeder, a beautiful flashy male and a more quietly colored female, or maybe it's an immature. I can see the tiny, perfect black feet clinging to the feeder perch from where I sit, warm and dry behind the window. I'm so lucky to be able to just look up and see those incredible little guys, about three feet away. Indie, my sleek indoor kitty, sits next to me and watches in fascination (and lust) as the hummers come and go.
The ducks are in the yard, doing a final hoovering for any corn that may have been missed earlier when they were fed. Brilliant orange feet, glowing even in this low light. A few crows intermingle, all friends in the search for a meal. Later we'll throw more corn; it's Thanksgiving after all.
The lake outlet that runs by our house is running like a river today, no more quiet mirror pond. The marsh grass looks like a lion's mane, rough and golden in the wind. The river birch has lost all its leaves, revealing a gorgeous, mottled red-brown trunk with papery, peeling bark. What's not to love?
These things are etched on my heart. My love of nature is deep and abiding and again, I'm so grateful. I have found that it nurtures me and carries me through rough times. A very good friend shared her favorite Rumi, which kind of fits here. We are all on the path to the truth. Happy Thanksgiving.
Though we seem to be sleeping
there is an inner wakefulness
that directs the dream
and that will eventually startle us back
to the truth of who we are.
Rumi
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