November Still Life
On a grey November day, I sit at the kitchen table facing the rain. How wonderful it is to escape the pressing needs of the warm sun. How wonderful it is to open the window and have a moment to watch a flock of cowbirds descend upon the spent clover and late wild strawberries in the garden.
The wet lawn is their table. Confident in their speckled brown splendor, they may not be the most beautiful of birds, but they inspire a sense of community and purpose. A feathered giving of thanks.
Eating fallen seeds and rogue pollen, the birds are beautiful, if only to one another. Dim candlelight, barely lightening the dark of my kitchen, threatens the grey peace of the birds.
They are content with the rain and pale light. In fact, the birds at table in the garden seem to delight in a day such as this.
Another bird joins the feast at table. A cardinal alights on a slick leaf clinging to an old maple tree, while another lands right outside my window on the last bloom before winter of an Everblooming Lilac bush.
Perhaps the bird is drawn by the soft light of the honeycomb pillar candle resting on my table. Perhaps he is drawn to the peace of the rain or the purple of the shrub.
I too am distracted by the rain as it falls on the birds, on the trees, and the fleeting violet of the mysterious lilac bloom. My thoughts are formless and lack the purpose of the cowbirds or the red-beauty of the cardinals. Perhaps all I need today is a respite from the heat of duty and a moment to allow my soul the chance to breathe, to give thanks for the subtle gifts of nature.
Daring not to disturb the grey-peace of the birds, I leave the window open, even as the wind increases. Seemingly all at once, the cardinals flee to shelter in the towering pine, and the cowbirds rise in unison.
