This morning, after the sun had come over the hill but still very early, my phone rang. A phone that rings that early is not bringing good news. That is a fact. That is how it goes.
The call was from my dear friend, the Artistic One. I have shared with you her suffering through the suffering of her husband over the past few months. His illness, which each day seemed to bring something new, more bad news. There were good days, and happily this past Friday was a very good day. Because, last night, his fight ended. Last night he passed on, into his heaven which is well populated with golf courses, I am sure. Golf was one of his passions, and I am sure he’s in a cart, hitting that little white ball across the pristine grass of an endless golf course. She has cried many tears over the past months, and will undoubtedly cry more. But where there is sadness, there is hope – for more happiness, more adventures, more time with friends and loved ones in the future. We will pray for that for her.
Because I do believe there is hope, I want to share some photos and some thoughts of a much more pleasant nature. With the Artistic One in my mind, in my heart, a little bit of nature’s beauty.
Did you know squirrels will eat oranges? I did not. However, lacking seed in the tray, apparently the half orange I had put in the hands of the sun on the tree (upper right corner) for the orioles satisfied Squi’s appetite. When he finished eating the pulp, he casually tossed the peel on the ground. Litterbug!
This Red Crossbill has an especially brightly colored collar, don’cha think? I spied the color on the birdbath from my morning room window, but could not tell what kind of bird it was until I uploaded it.
Outside my window I have a basket hanging on a shepherd’s hook – I’ve shared a photo of it with the little pots of primrose that were waiting to be planted in the ground. It contains a new coir liner, and the remants of a coir liner from a couple of years ago, which is filled with soil and some winey-red Calibrochoa. This morning, this female oriole (or one of the other female orioles visiting us this year) was on this basket, carefully selecting bits of the old coir liner and flying off with them. It must be nest-building time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen young orioles, unless they look exactly like their parents by the time they leave the nest.
With that offering of a few spots of happiness, I will leave you all with this thought: give those you love hugs as often as you can. Let them know you love them as often as you can. Life is not unending. Make your life enough.