Written in a notebook during some undated April, but the sentiment stays the same. I sometimes write letters to God as prayers. It helps me focus on Who I’m speaking to, helps me gather my thoughts into words, and my words into songs of praise.
April sure was something this year! There was this one day . . . well, let me think back on it. I’m sitting on my little garden bench . . .
The air is perfectly clear, the sky blue and cloudless. I smell the awakening earth at my feet and the cool, frisky breeze brings scents of flowers on its wings. Dogwood blooms powder the ground and nestle among the bright yellow pansies. An incomplete rock walk skirts a thick carpet of purple Vinca, with some darker purple blooms accenting the other side. They all cluster about me in an oasis of trees in the middle of our small circular drive. It’s so nice sitting here among your April glories as I write a letter to brother Tim, with the morning sun dappling through the leaves of the young oak trees, and the purple Vinca crowding my feet.
Thank you for the bird feeder that hangs from the dogwood tree. Tiny, bright yellow goldfinches flock about, with occasional flashes of cardinal red, and those startling redwing blackbirds. Thank you for the bluebird couple that resides in the birdhouse nailed to the oak tree. This is the house with the Coca-Cola advertising tin on the side. Don’t know if the birds like it, but we do. And thank you for the tufted titmice and chickadees, woodpeckers and jennie wrens who find their way to our feeders scattered among the cool, green trees. The sound of their songs and busy chatter are woodland melodies.
And thank you, Lord, for the lushness of the trees this year. All the young leaves have a glow to them as they lift their faces to your April sun. Only the maple has been slow this year, like a turtle afraid of sticking its head out of its shell. It’s beginning to leaf, but very cautiously. Or is it just that a watched tree never leafs?
Oh, and how I enjoyed yet another season of the crimson clover marching along roadways and up hillsides like little divisions of British redcoats. Thank you for keeping away the county weed-killer trucks. Some of my favorite flowers are weeds. Just look at what the Queen Anne’s Lace does for the roadsides.
Anyway, Lord, I just had to tell you I noticed. Help me as I muddle through my daily tasks and deal with the daily cares, to be ever mindful that you provide the daily bread of the soul as well as the body. It’s all in paying attention. Help me not to ever miss the show because I’m too busy fussing in the wings.
Thank you, Lord, for April. It was a feast for the senses this year, and a confection for the soul..