Did some porch pondering today siting in the swing, warm sunshine on my face, enjoying a yard filled with beautiful little songbirds. The sky is overcast and vanilla, looking for snow clouds to join their gathering. Occasionally the sun breaks through and I see a sky canopy of blues. A line of doves are sitting on the power lines trying to stay balanced on the wire, wobbling back and forth. I wonder about their intelligence. Their antics tickle me, specially when they jump over Fatty and his squirrel friends eating under the bird feeders. They just play leap frog under the feeders as they go about their bird business.

The breeze is composing a beautiful yard symphony with the tintinnabulations of the wind chimes. A small pile of brown magnolia leaves enjoyed a brief ride on a whirlwind and are now chasing each other down the street adding their cement slapping percussion beats to the yard symphony. A chorus of cussing chickadees and a choir of tirading titmice are chiming in with their songs, fussing in the gardenia bush near the porch bannisters. I love an interesting yard symphony. A loud train whistle is wailing in the dusk and has silenced the yard symphony. Now that the music has stopped the doves are singing acupella with their “coo coo.” Can’t help it, the doves make me laugh. I think one of them is cray, cray. So am I!

The banditry of titmice and chickadees have been fussing for a while now. Maybe they are fussing at me for being too close to them and their feeder. Guess the name banditry came from the black masks of feathers on their little faces, making them look like bandits. The titmice have a small mask of black feathers right above their beak but the chickadees have a full robber’s mask with a cap and kerchief of black. I watched them flitting around till the sun was getting ready to set.

The sunset pageant was a magnificent rendering in pale shades of wildflower honey. Mother Nature painted the horizon in sunny honey and the sun walked down the stage in a sequined gown of metallic gold, gleaming in her retirement of the day. Father Sky kissed the sun goodnight as Mother Nature’s watercolor brushes, dipped in hard candy colors of pink and blue, tinted the wispy clouds floating slowly across the skyline. Father Sky painted the night sky canopy a velvety dark navy and hung a high waxing crescent moon on the night stage to light the darkness. To finish his nightscape, Father Sky threw a handful of diamonds to twinkle in the heavens.

Went to town early morning for the traditional loaf of snow day bread. Might actually see a few flakes tomorrow. Supposed to start around midnight so of course I’ll stay up to catch the first flake. Was so excited I walked out of the store with NO bags… Heard this voice say, “Hey, Lady, you forgot your bags!” Shady Oaks, I’m getting closer to checking in!

There are so many pulchritudinous quotes about the beauty of a snowflake. “Life is like a snowflake — transient, adventurous, ephemeral, and beautiful,” Debasish Mridha. I love that one. The words do describe a snowflake and they describe us, too. We live in a world that is transient and ephemeral ever changing and evolving as we pass through in our lifetimes. We are on this planet for a short time. Life is fleeting!

Snow flakes fall from the sky, pile up on the ground, on trees and cars. Some are lucky to freeze and stay together, others land precariously and melt quickly. We can be adventurous and land somewhere new, experiencing life’s new wonders, or we can land on familiar ground and go through life safely and securely, afraid of melting in new situations. Snowflakes and life are beautiful and unique.

The word snow is found in the King James Version of the Bible 25 times. Perhaps the most read verse with the word snow is, “Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow,” Psalms 51:7. Snow is a symbol of purity and cleanliness. Like snowflakes, God made each of us unique and beautiful and just as the land can be covered in the whiteness of snow, God’s grace can cover us with his love and cleanse us of our sins.

“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and the fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep darlings,til the summer comes again,” Lewis Carroll.