This past fall, right before we left for the adoption, Dan came racing down the stairs, talking on the phone, but motioning out the window, frantic for me to see something.  We have many large windows all along the south of the house, so we get to see various things throughout the day, if we’re looking.

Right outside the dining room window, peering at us, was the largest barred owl I’d ever seen.  Okay, the only barred owl I’d ever seen.  We’d heard it, certainly, when we’re out in the hot tub.  Hoo-hoo-to-hoo.  It even talks back to us.  Once it flew over us; we saw it’s shadow pass over.

You know, you can read all this in a book–whether it be a scientific book, a children’s book, or a coffee table book–but it’s different when the bird is right there for you to see.  Incredible.  And it stayed there a long time.

I can’t wait to show all these things to Liliana.  She keeps requesting Raffi’s “Baby Beluga” song, so I know I have to go up to the MN Zoo soon, to show her the beluga whales.  This morning she said, “Sad,” and pointed out the window.  I told her, “Yes, the birds have run out of food, and Papa is going down to feed them.  Look!  See?  There he is.  And look at all the birds waiting.  There’s a red cardinal and a blue bluejay and a black and white woodpecker, and oooh, look, that turkey flew up into the tree.”  “Food,” she says, satisfied now.

I’m continually startled when I see things like this–my orchids blooming, the hummingbirds in the spring (who says they never rest?  ours do!), the hearty deer, the crescent of a moon, and the sprinkling of stars over a black sky, the deer bones hidden under tufts of grass, the fawns we see in the spring, the cicada carcass we found, the aspen leaves turning a brilliant yellow.  Really, truly, we are so rich, and we forget, all the time, until we see something new.

That’s why I’m going to share something else that causes a catch in the back of my throat, that grateful tug that occurs when I’ve read something grand, something that reminds me to see, to watch, to absorb.

My friend Clare sent me this lovely poem for a Saturday morning, among other things.  It’s called “What To Do the First Morning the Sun Comes Back” by Roseann Lloyd.  You can find it here.

And don’t forget to enter the Eve Giveaway on Wednesday, January 14th’s post, if you’d like a brand-new hardcover Eve!