…it’s that I’m just not writing about it. that’s partly due to time constraints, partly tiredness, partly burn-out and partly just simply having less to write about. It’s continuing to be a quieter year from my seat on the porch. There isn’t as much bird activity nearby as the forest changes. We still hear crows in the distance and an occasional wren or mockingbird, but there isn’t the multi-species chatter of previous years. Our squirrel still chatters and scolds at times. As I’ve mentioned before, I think the change is due to the brush at the forest edge shading out and a general maturing of the nearby woods.
There are still the distant sounds of dogs, both night and day, plus coyotes at night. Sometimes I hear some hotshot revving his hotrod. Sounds from the interstate waft on the breeze, strongest at night. Twice or thrice a week, I hear eight-hooters in the woods, and there are a couple whippoorwills every night. “Whip” is still around. I thought he/she might be dead by this time, but I still hear the creature singing the namesake song in an a disjointed, almost threatening tone.
March was march, but April was May and now May is March all over again. The temperatures and breezes make porch sits fewer and shorter. Between those things and my butt going numb anymore, I usually give out before the Mighty Dachshund but, if it’s cold and windy enough, she sometimes calls for an end to the “fun.” We still have a few warmer and sunnier moments now and then when we sit and I thank the Lord for the ability to see, hear and appreciate the beauty that He’s put before me.
It’s been well over a week since the little ridge across the hollow disappeared due to the growing leaves in the understory. The lights at the airport disappeared a day later. Neither will reappear until late fall. And so, life goes on, even when I don’t mention it. Copyright 5/10/2021