Tenth evening: Robins

7:30 pm

With my littles sleeping, I walked out under a double rainbow to collect eggs and close the hens in for the night.  We had a downpour an hour ago, and the wild birds now seemed triumphant in their cheery calling, so many joining the song.

Miles of dramatic clouds moving at a steady pace.  Dark and heavy patches with the thready wisps that talk of rain falling.  Flaming orange bursts where the sun was streaking through, leaving its mark.

Barely a hint of wind, but the apple blossoms still sent their fragrance across the yard to where I stood on the porch, wrapped in my fleece blanket given me by a long-ago friend.

Awareness was a companion to me today, seeming to hold my hand (or maybe my arm), pressing me to stay awake during different points in my day when I would typically be lost in thought.  "Hey now, hey there!  C'mon, you've got it in you!  Stay with me now, stay with me..." it seemed to be saying at every turn. I am accustomed to awareness being a tender thing I have to nurture with great care, not this assertive creature who drops by unannounced. This new version works for me!

Ducks dabbled in the new puddles in the grass, cocking their heads to eye me every now and then.

Peepers still holding strong at some distance from our yard.  No "ree...ree" tonight.  Robins, robins, robins!  Some cheerio'ing, some teent'ing, and some piping their high-pitched tut-tut-tut.  Never have I been awake enough, alert enough, to hear these three robin calls all in the same moment!

A new voice in the evening chanting, one of my favorites and as-yet unidentified song: the liquid gurgling song that only emanates from woods, never from fields or the air.  Who are you?