April Morning

The Bible asks us to ‘consider the birds,’ and when one lives in Middle Tennessee that is almost unavoidable, although some Type A personalities are probably too busy for such consideration.

Old Ban-Joey here can be as Type A as the next guy, but I have learned to take the time to not only consider the birds, but to honor and enjoy ALL of the beauty that God in His mercy allows to flow into our lives on a daily basis. My life on this earth has been all the better for it, too!

Yesterday the weather here was stunning, and so I took that opportunity to work on my little plot of terra firma for about ten hours. I weedeated my brains out, cut a ton of grass, and even had a chainsaw in my hand for a bit and feel lucky that a few trees got cut without the slicing of a femoral artery. ALWAYS a good thing!

The Oak Ridge Boys are off the road a lot this month, while planning and recording a cool new Gospel minded, acoustic driven project, so I have had a chance to really catch up on work at my farm, and I have done just that. But now, the work is done, and I am enjoying a beautiful April morning.

Morning is a blessed time when one can sit on the porch, sip on a good cup of coffee, and think and pray and listen. It is early and the sun rises above the tree line to immediately be swallowed up by the low-lying cloud cover that permeates most of the sky. Yes, a storm is imminent today with lots of rain in the forecast and even some possible severe weather, as yet another tornado-spawning band is about to sweep across the southland, which again makes me very happy that my work is finished for now. But this IS April, and as soon as one cuts grass you can almost hear it growing. So, in reality, work is NEVER really done.

But for now I am caught up, and it seems that there is another mean storm on the way, a storm that has already left a lot of damage in its path. One can only hope and pray that it will weaken as it passes through.

Yes, it will rain soon, but for now all is still and the air is filled with constant chirping and the flutter of wings. There are birds everywhere. They are flying, building nests, and mating all around the holler.

I hear the distinctive chattering of the red-winged blackbird that, like the ring-necked kingfisher, was given a more aggravating sound than most birds. My barn swallows are here and their conversing is almost hysterical. They are so communal, and a couple will just sit and talk to each other using varying sounds and volumes that defy imagination.

I hear meadowlarks, who possess the most beautiful call of all, and I can hear the mourning doves cooing as well. The owls have not gone to bed yet, for far away I can hear them hooting at each other.

Bluebirds, tanagers, wrens, rough-winged swallows, flickers, cardinals, and mockingbirds are all here. Wild turkeys way off in the distance do not seem happy for some reason and that reason could be the pack of coyotes who seemed to howl all night long at the early rising, waxing moon.

The ruby throated hummingbirds have arrived and seem to be working hard on the red and purple tulips that adorn one of Mary’s many gardens. I look in the distance and I see a flock of very small birds coming towards me. They are undulating in flight as if on a small roller coaster. Only one bird flies that way. Could it be? Goldfinch?

I almost lose my breath and tears well up as indeed about ten passing goldfinch land in the tree not five feet in front of me. These are my favorite bird of all. Yellow as God intended yellow to be, with little black wings and a bit of black on top of their head as if they were wearing a small black cap.

Did my mom send them to me today knowing how much I loved them? Did my dear Ms. Lo-Dee send them as I used to tell her all about my love for them? I am not sure, but my heart fills with joy as I behold their beauty.

When I was a kid I had these little bird models that my Nana Gertrude Clark would buy for me. Oh yes, I had planes, battleships, tanks, and jeeps and such, as well, and to be honest I never was much good at putting them all together. But my bird models were my favorites, and my goldfinch was the best one on the shelf.

I remember going to the hobby store down on Kensington Avenue and picking out just the right yellow paint, and I also remember that that one was the best of the lot. I have always been a bit too quick doing things and that is why Duco cement was caked around the wrong places on most of my models. But I remember really taking my time painting and putting together my little goldfinch.

A flutter of little wing sounds fills the quiet morning air and just like that… they are on their way to, I believe, a destination much farther north. Big tough old Philly boy has to fight back another tear, even though I know I will see many more of them come May. Thank you, God, for this blessing this morning. Had I not been on the porch at this particular time I would have missed this small chapter in nature’s handbook.

I have sat out here for three hours and have let my mind wander and my soul rest. There is much I could occupy my mind with this morning, but I will ponder these things at a later time.

For now… rain falls, wind blows, flowers grow, and birds sing. Just another April morning.