I got up at 6 when the sunrise filled the room with light and the horizon with yellow. Time to go take photos. But of course, I had many things to do before actually leaving. I had to get dressed, go to the bathroom, pack up my laptop with my iPod cord, get my little iPod holder that hangs around my neck, take my shovel and the walker, get my violin, pack those things onto and in my walker, and finally head over to the car trail down to the pond.
The mist was fog rising off the pond, wafting across it like a many skirted angel. I gathered up some stakes and added them to my walker, but not until I'd pulled my large plastic bag out of my violin case and spread it on the seat of the walker, sat and watched and listened and filmed.
A pair of chickadees took turns with the birdhouse they had selected to the right of the hillside berm. They were removing a white item each time they left the nest, baby bird scats, or egg shells? Baby chickadees! How sweet. They had selected a birdhouse whose hole was too low for my standards, almost at the bottom of the birdhouse. It's one with antlers. The house.
The house on the tree to the west of the pond in the ferns has a pair of tree swallows nesting in it. So lovely! Just wonderful that such a small act, putting up birdhouses as soon as the pond was dug, has given us such great blessings. Birds eat bugs. Especially the tree swallows. They will eat the mosquitoes, 1000 a day, I recall.
I saw a frog emerge from the pond, ripples in his wake as he rested near the tadpoles, which may provide him with sustenance for many days hence. The fog moving was lovely. It was so nice to be able to sit and have this singular, spiritual experience with this wonderful planet, the garden I call home!
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