Snow Bound, Again

Finding beauty in my own backyard.

Watching CBS This Morning helped my mind to relax and focus on other peoples stories of life, and more than that I look forward to their one minute of nature broadcast every week.  The scene of Yellowstone in snow with steam rolling out of misty places captured my attention.  How peaceful, how calming.  If I can admire the beauty of Yellowstone in winter, then why then am I so miserable with our snow and cold weather?

I looked out the window thinking I was caged animal only to see several pairs of Cardinals perched in our evergreen and huddled near to the house.  How peaceful, how calming.    A smile broadened my face and my outlook; I slammed my fist down and turned to our Lucy dog announcing, "That's it.  I'm in charge of my own attitude and I'm no longer going to complain.  I'm missing a beautiful moment out there, one that won't come my way again."

With that I insulated my cold bones and joints with long underwear, added another layer of warm clothing, and when it was finally time to pull on the ski pants Lucy began to do her happy dance.  She knows now that ski pants mean the same thing in winter as tennis shoes do in warmer season:  It's time to explore the outside.

Wind blown patterns in the snow.

The fields might have seemed barren and lifeless to some but we found beauty in the snow blown patterns and in the landscape that stretched to the horizon.  Lucy heard the field mice buried underground but couldn't dig them out no matter how furiously she clawed.

We slowly walked with the wind at our back.  Then we turned into the winds and  toward home.  I was plenty warm and walked without my glasses on, since they steam up on these cold days.

My mind was cleared of clutter, and I sat down in the soft snow to ponder and gaze when Lucy jumped on me.  We rolled in the snow and I giggled as she romped and trampled me.

Patterns in the sand at Hilton Head remind me of a barefoot walk on the beach.

Energized, we returned home.  In my search for photos of our exploration I found another patterned picture from our trip Hilton Head.  Aren't we lucky to be surrounded by such beauty, and all we have to do is go outside.

The Purple Egg

No, not a purple people eater, even though I can still sing the song, nor a purple haze. Guessing the sky kissed my egg that day.

Sitting in the hot tub on a cold winter morning with the sun glistening on the frozen rooftops I listened and watched in awe as hundreds of geese flew in formation over our tiny space on earth. Their V formations billowed in and out like the prairie grass in a brisk breeze. I sat in awe and then suddenly clamped my mouth shut. I could just imagine that thick white drop from the heavenly skies finding my gaping mouth. How disgusting.

Then just like that I recalled my purple egg breakfast. One warm sunny morning last summer I decided to eat my breakfast outside (always pretending I live in sunny California). I served myself hot tea and a gently poached egg on toast. I carried my tray full of food and condiments to the backporch. The arrangement was spread out and ready for me to sit down and enjoy, when I realized I had no napkin and had left my cell phone in the house. Quickly, with Lucy dog at my heals I ran inside.

My mind, however, wondered ever so briefly to another task. In only minutes I was back outside with cell phone, napkin, peanut butter, and dog biscuits. There is was! A poached purple egg with a sliver of a yellow happy face underneath. I actually stood and studied the situation, noting the trail of fresh purple mulberry droppings across our patio underneath the electrical wires. Tossing my meal wasn't an immediate action since I knew Lucy would follow the food trail and lick up my viands. So I did the only logical thing, I picked up the dishes, returned to the kitchen and started over.

First, I went back outside and washed the table, then moved the patio table and chairs away from the birding wires. After the world was rearranged, I returned to the kitchen and scrambled my eggs, fixed some toast, and brewed some fresh tea. It seemed appropriate that I should serve myself and the birds some blueberries, but alas, the frig was bare of berries. With a tray full of food and necessities in hand I returned once more to the fresh air. While enjoying my meal in the sun I listened to a treeful of UBB's (unidentified brown birds) chirping with laughter.