A pesky cat woke me up at 5:30 this morning and I couldn't get back to sleep. GRRRR! Once Rocky woke me up, my bladder made me get up and when my feet hit the floor it was game over. Rocky wouldn't leave me alone until I rambled down to the kitchen to give him a smackerel of tuna to start his day. Lady Bug started this habit with Rocky and we can't break him of it.
After tending to the Rockster I climbed back into bed to see if I could catch a few more winks, but it was no use. The trees outside our bedroom window were playing host to a lively gaggle of birds and they were having quite the boisterous chat over their morning coffee. I listened to their excited chatter and wondered what in the world they were saying to each other. They sure were greeting the morning with enthusiasm and after a few minutes I thought I should get up and do the same, so I rolled out of bed again and made a bee-line for the coffee pot in the kitchen.
While waiting for the brew to drip into the pot I wandered from window to window to open curtains and check out the day. Lots of clouds were in the sky, and the sun was peeking through making for a very pretty morning. I was glad at this point that the cat and the birds had gotten me up to greet it.
Coffee in hand, mmm, that first cup laced with cream is so delicious, I puttered back upstairs to turn on the computer and start my day in a quiet relaxed way. I checked mail and then blogs. HDT's blog was especially meaningful after my encounter with the birds this morning so I thought I would share it with you too. Make yourself a steaming cup of coffee and enjoy
Blog of Henry David Thoreau
Methinks I would share every creature’s suffering for the sake of its experience and joy. The song sparrow and the transient fox-colored sparrow,—have they brought me no message this year? Do they go to lead heroic lives in Rupert’s Land? They are so small, I think their destinies must be large. Have I heard what this tiny passenger has to say, while it flits thus from tree to tree? Is not the coming of the fox-colored sparrow something more earnest and significant than I have dreamed of? Can I forgive myself if I let it go to Rupert’s Land before I have appreciated it? God did not make this world in jest; no, nor in indifference. These migrating sparrows all bear messages that concern my life. I do not pluck the fruits in their season. I love the birds and beasts because they are mythologically in earnest. I see that the sparrow cheeps and flits and sings adequately to the great design of the universe; that man does not communicate with it, understand its language, because he is not one with nature. I reproach myself because I have regarded with indifference the passage of the birds; I have thought them no better than I.