A patch of gray

Our gorgeous, unseasonably delightful three days were interrupted briefly late morning just when I had a chance to visit Oak Point. Yesterday luncheon on the patio. Saturday sack lunch on the park bench. Today at noon all was gray. It looked a tiny bit winter-ish.

Gray means I have to look closer, watch longer, notice and appreciate the tiny gifts. Sometimes I can't get past the dried mud coating on the heaps of water-borne debris still lodged between trees reminding me somehow of Civil War battlefield photos, horrendous loss, and Lincoln's melancholy.

Today the gray was a large mat around delicate drawings and watercolors ready for framing. The heaps of debris provide cover for the tiniest of birds playing hide and seek--juncos, wrens, fat sparrows, and kinglets. Chickadees, titmice, brown creepers, and nuthatches run distractions.

Lichen opened their mouths in song. The woods along Rowlett Creek offered faux ancient human habitations, future human recreations, and thunderstorm sculptures.

I'm still hanging a bit over the edge, but better now after my walk, thank you.

© 2014-2016 Nancy L. Ruder