taps on the window.
*ping* *ting* *click*
The bird feeder … heaped with the evidence
of another frozen storm
dumped upon a part of the world
where many people hardly own a heavy overcoat
much less frozen-world gear.
It is barely sun-up and the birds are congregating under the feeder
where the only seeds on top of the blanket of white
are those thrown out of the feeder by a avian who has recently dined.
Two at a time, they take turns under the protection of the dome
to feast on the seeds and morsels waiting there in the cold.
Cardinal, Sparrow, House wren, Chickadee.
Titmouse, Oriole and some tiny tot I’ve never seen before.
I watch them through the bay window and realize there are dozens searching
on the ground where dregs have fallen
so I toss several cups full of seed from the front porch
and watch the scattered group
converge on new provisions.
The tiny ice pellets continue to fall.
The road in front of my home has not yet been traveled today.
Long before tire marks emboss this surface,
foot prints will decorate the sidewalks
as children find a makeshift sled and traipse to the park
a stones throw from my front porch stoop.
It is the only place in the neighborhood with a “hill” of any kind
if you can call that stubble of an incline a “hill.”
Not so very long ago, I read advice that said to put bird feed out for birds only when snow or ice cover the ground. I wondered? Really? Why, some years we would never have opportunity to give gifts of seeds to our feathered friends! I keep out feeders year round. I can understand that birds don’t really NEED food during the spring, summer and fall, but I love having a close up view of them as they flit onto the feeder and then bounce away.
I wondered about the winter, though. We don’t have much snowfall. We don’t spend days or weeks cloaked in white. But, our winters still appear barren to me … especially to me, an urbanite (or suburbanite, depending on your opinion). There are no wide open fields for the birds to glean … no thickets for them to scour. Our ground is spotted with green, but mostly buildings, homes, businesses and roads.
How do the birds up north survive? Do they ALL migrate south? Do any winter over in the frozen chill?
My mind rolls with thoughts of God.
– So God created the great creatures of the sea and every living thing with which the water teems and that moves about in it, according to their kinds, and every winged bird according to its kind. And God saw that it was good. Genesis 1:21 He created them.
– I know every bird in the mountains,
and the insects in the fields are mine. Psalm 50:11 They are His and He knows them.
– Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns,
and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Matthew 6:26
They do not reap, sow or store, but He feeds them.
Having seen several storms in the few past years, I understand more fully
why feeders aren’t needed
until most food is veiled in white.
But, then, yes, it is necessary.
Of course, here, our veil is short-lived.
Surely, the birds wouldn’t die in just a day or two.
But, I bolster the offering just the same.
If He feeds the birds,
won’t he surely feed me?
He will care for us as we are near “the end.”
Soon, I will be out of school… nine weeks.
Soon, my insurance will end … May.
Soon, Comedy I will have a change of income
that will leave me with less.
I have to trust.
I don’t know what it will look like,
but somehow it will be alright.
And I don’t mean “alright” in the “American sense.”
I don’t know if we will continue to live like we live, or where we live.
I’m not sure if we will eat the way we do … fresh fruits & vegetables … meat when we want.
Will we frequent a food pantry?
I can’t know whether we will even have a vehicle.
Will we have to give away our pets?
Will we travel? Adventure? Camp?
I just don’t know.
But, somehow, I trust things will be okay.
I continue to add to my list of One Thousand Gifts,
I am thankful for …
330. quiet, still, dense quiet
331. a cold shoulder from someone once a friend – that I may practice mercy and grace
332. a robe of pink left behind … to remind me of a girl who has moved on
333. the learned ability to hold my tongue … most of the time
334. the gift of living in a place with four beautiful, rich seasons
335. a wood rack filled to the brim with wood, dry, seasoned and ready to burn
337. the music of a pre-teen coming from an strings and instrument perched upon her shoulder
338. a comfy Goodwill chair that fits in our den as if we had chosen the covering from a catalog
339. angels and snowflakes that remain on my mantle as I choose to leave up Christmas for just a bit longer
340. coffee, creamer, and vanilla caramel
341. a sound mind
342. and a body that does what I ask without complaint
343. the spiritual insurance … of salvation