My gift this morning is the cacophony of birdsong. I am not a bird person, so try as I do, I cannot discern how many different birdsong voices I am hearing. My memory conjures two distinct memories, neither of them heart warming. Pete is a lovely man now, but in his younger years his sense of 'funny' was not a favorite trait of mine. The day I walked into the den and he said "Get her Pete", his bird made a dive bomb from his cage and aimed directly at my head. NOT a happy memory.
Then was the day we met the kids in Paris. We had each spent about 10 days on our own; they had a EuRail Pass and went where they chose. We did the same, enjoying one another and making every decision an adventure. The day the four of us met in a plaza in central Paris (designated date and time prearranged) sticks in my mind. Small park, surrounded by small cafes, businesses and shops. We sat with coffee for hours sharing stories of recent adventures. When the actual meeting time for dinner came, we walked across the plaza to our dinner reservation. On that stroll, a pigeon shit on my shoulder. It was a thud so strong, my shoulder dipped in the force. Russ was horrified and began wiping at my shoulder, while Gardner on the other hand was laughing so hard he couldn't speak... (at least that is my memory and I am sticking to it!)
Birds up close have never been a favorite. But listening to bird song, seeing an owl perched on a neighbor's house (twice this week!), or seeing an eagle or hawk swoop overhead always brings my heart joy. My back porch perch this morning, showered in birdsong was a glorious beginning to my day.
...and driving into town and seeing a herd of elk race across a huge field wasn't too shabby either. I love where I live. Make it a great day.