Read this quote in a magazine this afternoon. “If you want to hate America, watch the news. If you want to love America drive across it,” Mikale Olsen. It’s so depressing to watch the news as they report all the shootings, the robberies, the hurt placed upon people living their everyday lives. We strike up conversations at the grocery stores, the doctors’ offices, at the gas pumps but once we begin to disagree the anger produces violence. When we traveled with paper maps we often asked directions and were greeted pleasantly by strangers. In today’s world we’d be wary of strangers and asking for directions. I think the world has lost her kindness and has forgotten how precious a human life is. I pray for Mother Earth every night.

Ashley Smith writes, “Life is full of beauty. Notice it. Notice the bumblebee, the small child, and the smiling faces. Smell the rain, and feel the wind. Live your life to the fullest potential, and fight for your dreams.” These five years I’ve been retired I have become lazy and sloth-like spending happy hours perched in my porch swing. I’ve noticed God’s blessings in nature and I appreciate his gifts. I just didn’t have the time or patience to appreciate them when I was in the working world.

When I walk Penelope I see all the tiny exquisite wild flowers and imagine them as blooms in bridal bouquets of small animals. The larger wildflowers, I see a Creek Indian princess picking them for her bridal bouquet. Never even noticed these tiny flowers till I began walking my dog daily. She lived in a fenced yard in Alexander City.

I now notice the beauty in the delicate weave of a spun spider web and treat it with respect instead of something to knock down and tear up. I notice how lightly the butterflies land on zinnia petals, how softly they fan the blooms with their wings, their tiny blacks legs tap dancing from blossom to blossom. I hear the twitter of humming bird wings, the loud squeaks as they dive and fight over the feeders. I hear the vibration hums of bumblebees. I hear the cardinals, their large orange beaks crunching the sunflower seeds open. I hear the sounds of nature, the softest pings of the wind chimes, enjoying the songbird symphony that floats on the breeze.

I notice the clouds and their beauty as they fluff up and change shapes. I sit in the swing at dusk and watch Mother Nature paint the clouds with ethereal watercolors as the sun gets ready for bed each night. I sit in the swing and hear it squeak as I watch the thunderhead clouds get full of moisture that bursts forth as silver raindrops. I smell the earthy rain on the way and wait for the first thunder and lightning bolts to run me off the porch back in the house.

I watch the neighborhood dog bounce along the sidewalk on her daily walks around the neighborhood. The dog, named Bootsy, black with four white feet, skips along as if she’s overflowing with doggy happiness. I always think of John Travolta walking down the street in Saturday Night Live when I watch Bootsy walk by. I can actually hear the music play in my mind as she keep right with the songs’ drum beat. She’s a beautiful creature.

I observe the songbirds and marvel at their colorful feathers and the undulating waves of their flight patterns. I notice how the songbirds treat their mates and fledglings, how they squabble over feeder perches. I watch how the doves and squirrels scratch for seeds the songbirds have raked out, jumping up and over each other in their repast. I watch the songbirds drink from the bird bath fountain, laying their heads back so the water can run down their throats. I watch the songbirds bathe in the bird baths, splashing water out with their wings. I watch the squirrels stand perfectly straight up on the bird bath’s rim, tail in perfect question mark, before they relax and lap up the water.

I watch the vegetables bloom and grow in the warm sunshine and marvel at how much a squash and cucumber can grow in a day. I watch the glorious zinnias bloom in a kaleidoscope of colors and watch the sunflowers turn their heads toward the sun. I see the large June bugs and remember as a child tying thread to their legs and holding the thread as they flew around. And I’m thinking now how that must have hurt them. I watch the sun kiss the tops of all the trees in the neighborhood and try to count all the different shades of greens. In fall I watch Mother Nature dress the trees in colorful cardigans, sending the leaves dancing to the ground to cover the landscape.

I watch my nieces and nephews and grandchildren when they don’t know I’m looking and wonder what the world holds for them. I love to watch them smile to themselves when no one is watching. I love to hear them yell “Cannon Ball” loud enough to interrupt adult conversations. I hope they will always have days of wonder and happiness and love. And I hope there will always be monarch butterflies and happy dogs and June bugs and colorful zinnias and beautiful sunsets, and songbirds and canon balls in their lives and lives of their children and grandchildren. The Lord has truly blessed us with a beautiful world.

“We give you thanks, most gracious God, for the beauty of earth and sky and sea; for the richness of mountains, plains, and rivers; for the songs of birds and the loveliness of flowers.” — The Book of Common Prayer