Pelican Season

They wing their way through the Mississippi River area once a year, as part of a migration pattern.  The American White Pelicans land here in Iowa for a short time and are beautiful to see.  I have been enjoying watching these pelicans fly about, showing off their bright white feathers against the dark brown of trees that have not leafed out yet.  Landing with amazing skill onto the river, I would see both large groupings of pelicans and individuals floating down the river. 

Last Saturday dawned bright and clear.  Sunshine at last!  I really wanted to go back and take pictures of the pelicans in the sunshine.  (Not that the cloudy days have stopped me).   But, where did the pelicans go?  The beautiful birds must have taken advantage of the beautiful day to travel along to another spot. 

I’m glad I didn’t wait for the sun to come out to take pictures.  Pelicans only stay for a short season.  Like pelicans, you can’t wait always wait for the perfect moment – sometimes you have to make the moment.

Through the Lens

   I had several moments in the last few days that made me wish that my camera was handy. Through the view of the lens, the world takes on a different perspective. I would have taken pictures of…

   Three oriental rugs hung up to dry after being cleaned over a large wooden privacy fence. The patterns and colors stood out in stark contrast to the light colored wood. Each rug was a bit different, and in the midday light, the contrasting colors were beautiful.
   The dust from the farm vehicle swirled from the road, over the green wagon, and down the next bank. Corn stalks, just shreds of the golden leaves, would occasionally make their way through the air. As the sun starts making its way lower in the horizon, the remaining corn in the field took on a dusty golden hue.
   Whirling and dipping, a large red tailed hawk landed on a perch of tangled brush. It bobbed its head left and right, examining potential prey scurrying on the ground below. Wings holding a rusty red show of feathers and a beautiful snowy white underneath stretched out powerfully. Lifting into the air, it found the air currents and swirled through the columns of wind.
   Such beauty through the lens.

Summertime

Summer – the word evokes a flurry of responses in me. I live near an elementary school, and notice that for the children making their way back and forth, they seem to have picked up a new spring in their steps. Summer is freedom; freedom from school and homework, to have time to sleep in or get up way to early and play outside until way too late. Summer time and the living is easy.... the words from George Gershwin float on the too still warm air as I seek out the comfort of shade. Lightning bugs and the sounds of night cricket sonnets fill the air as much as the light from the stars and moon. The sounds of leaves in the wind, they strike me as if they actually are laughing with the pure delight of receiving a cooler breeze than those of us with two feet stuck firmly on the earth. Summer is sun dresses and sandals, sheer silky scarves wrapped around your neck and lawn chairs. Summer is the splash of the garden hose and the smell of fresh sun warmed strawberries. Summer is the bliss of walking into the air conditioning and being able to snuggle under a quilt rather than sweating buckets on top of all sheets while fans are running. Summer is baby birds that don’t fly very well yet, are slightly mottled and now stand next to their momma’s while waiting to be fed rather than waiting in the nest. Summer is the sound of the riverboat horns as they approach each other.

I have a lot of really wonderful summer memories. I have played in sprinklers, mud, and trees. I remember making up plays with neighborhood compatriots who apparently either was willing to share the flare for the story telling or just did what the bossy neighbor girl told them. A white long haired dog named Bo Bo used to stand on our picnic table, and wait for us to come and pet him. He appreciated the attention as one of those good neighborhood dogs. He did not appreciate it when my mother tried to use some flea killer on him. With hurt feelings, he did not come back for a week. I remember summer vacations, especially ones in the back of a big green van. It had a bed in the back and I loved lying on that bed, and having it completely covered with whatever project I was working on at the time. I would let myself roll from side to side as we went around corners and watch other drivers out of the back windows. I remember many summers of band and sweating on the side of a football field. It seemed a great accomplishment to learn a few new steps, a few new notes, which we knew would be needed come fall and competitions. The accomplishment seemed worth the sacrifice of our summer hours, our sweat, blood, and yes – tears. I remember trips to stay with my grandparents. Swimming at the campground with one and all sorts of messy projects with another.
I look at this summer and as it is my first one without either being in school, preparing for school, or completely burned out from school, and I wonder what I should do with myself this summer. There is work of course. But, that is to support life, not life itself. What should I do? Read a few new books? Of course! Three are on order, two Geoffrey of Monmouth books and one biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine. I have considered lying down on the driveway at night while the pavement is still warm, but figure the neighbors would all think I had gone completely buggy. Oh well, I may do that anyway. There are flowers to picked, pictures to be taken, birds to listen to. Trips to plan, friends to visit, and time to enjoy the antics of the dogs. There is my Bible to read, my time in prayer, and Character Camp at church (like a VBS). This summer is unique. It will never come again. I feel that I need to dig down deep and plant something here that is memorable, that will be recalled someday like my grandmother’s snowball bushes. A lasting memory that comes back to life with a fragrance or sight.

SHHHHH!!!!

I have never been someone who craves quiet. In fact, I really do not study well at libraries, the quiet just leads me to get distracted and then there are the books – way too much distraction! About 6 months ago, I attended my Great Banquet, Peoria Women’s Great Banquet #14. It was a wonderful experience and one that I continue to cherish and learn from.

One of the most profound things for me was that I finally learned to seek out and enjoy the quiet and solitude of moments, moments that are all too rare. It was in this experience of listening to God, learning to be quiet, that I found how much I enjoyed the time to slow down.
So, this weekend while my mother was at her Great Banquet, I was at a nearby state park. With no obligations, waiting chores, to do’s, or places to be, I found myself sitting on a tree bent over a pond and listening to the buffalo. I love how they sound, their snorting and grunts, their breathing and sighing. I must have sat at that spot for twenty minutes, taking a few occasional pictures, but mainly just listening and watching.

There is so much to do in this life, so many wonderful things to see. With so much to say, partake in, and get done, it can be very easy to put off the quiet times. Oh, I’ll get to that later and one thought pushing another out of my brain and poof – it’s gone.

I wonder how much I really miss of what God is trying to tell me just because of my inability to be quiet, to sometimes just slow down and be. I know I need sleep for energy, need food for fuel, need exercise for strength, but my time with God – that is my solace and energy, fuel, and strength! I will seek out other times in the future when I can just go and be quiet, listening to the same creator who made those beautiful buffalo.