Overhead a hawk glides effortlessly in the air currents, no wing motion necessary, slowly circling above me around and around, the sun catching his wing as he turns.
Turtledoves fly, first one then its mate, from a large plum tree to an ancient cedar.
A scurrying squirrel on the tall cedar fence stops to look at me and wave his bushy red tail. Then, off he scampers once again.
The sky is true autumn blue, deep, brilliant, without clouds.
Songs and hymns escape my lips, softly adding a human element to my reverie.
Deep thoughts and pleasant thoughts stretch and build in formation for there is time and space for them to be born and to grow.
This is life.
Observation, participation, meaning.
Rather than slurp and gulp mindlessly at the public trough whose menu consists of an alphabet soup of predetermined talking points and outrages meant to manipulate and distract, frustrate and terrify, I welcome my own ideas brought to me by leisure hours intentionally spent absorbing nature, good books, and whatever God brings across my path.
For me, such reflection nourishes the whole person.
