Duck Days

Since I was a little girl, the first bit of information I want as soon as my eyes flutter open is to know what’s happening outside. So, Sunday morning at 8 o’clock I pulled my big outdoor chair through the grass to the middle of the backyard so I could sit, and have my hot morning coffee since the forecast was 14 hours of rain. The rain was scheduled to start at precisely 9 o’clock; all the time I had to spend in the presence of the fading zinnias and late purple cosmos was one, short hour. I happily stole that hour before the clouds rolled in on time; I was the early bird, and my worm was a peaceful start to my day. I watched the yellow finches take what was rightfully theirs; they perch on slumped over sunflowers, crook their little necks upside down and pluck out seeds. The peach tree had shed nearly half of its leaves, leaving the tree looking older, worn. Aging folks who lose their hair are just trees in the wind, their roots are still deep, and their wisdom just as sturdy. Life’s last season is probably a long one for some, yet abundant and ripe with simple joy. I meet lots of older folks and spend time talking to them; they are always willing to look beyond the rotten fruit of the day. Their gratitude is contagious, and I am always left with a sureness in my heart that even on a cloudy day, the sun still shines.

As I looked over my right shoulder I saw an indigo sky, ominous and honest. Best to have a welcoming spirit for any visitors passing through, including the rainstorm that has come to wash our hills and valleys, as it did the farmland to our west overnight. ‘Beyond us, storm, you will meet the mountains and then cast yourself off into your mothering sea. Because of you our birds will bathe, our bees will drink, and the last green grass of the year will stand to salute your journey. Our porch chairs will shine.’

The wind howled its friendly “HellOOO” and reminded me that just like the sunflowers give way to the change in the air, so should we lean into the directed of life’s winds too. Their stalks grew strong enough to bend without breaking, and let me remind you, so did you. The push and pull of life can really fold us over backwards sometimes, but in our roughest storms, we can be like the oak. Unlike the trees, we can always find shelter in our own homes or a friend’s, and remember the truth that life treats us more fairly than we deserve sometimes.

I heard the church bells from up the street announce the hour, 9 strikes. The storm was right on time. The temperature had dropped, and the last sips of coffee were cool against my lips. A gust of wind brought down a thick curtain of leaves at once, they did not gently float in a cursive wave with ease but fell heavy and urgently. That was our stage cue, the show was about to start. I thought of “Auntie Em” as my hair scrambled in all directions. The morning’s chorus of birds silenced, and my little lap dog lifted his nose high, investigating the intrusive air. Animals are always paying attention. Quick! We made a run for the house, and as the screen door flew open and we jumped inside and were greeted with stillness, and dim warmth. Rain drops fell like marbles onto the roof; we had nearly gotten caught in a cold, autumn rain. A day now, just for ducks.

Thanks for reading, and as always drop me a line sometime. I DO love to chat!

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