The Great Outdoors

Living in Mississippi in my mind doesn’t equate to enjoying the outdoors.  There were about five days each year you could truly enjoy being outside.  That may sound like an exaggeration but without counting, I really can’t remember that many.  The days were muggy for the most part bearably in the winter and horribly so in the summer.  We could plant flowers in November that flourished throughout the winter only to be replaced in the summertime with those that could withstand the high temperatures.

Here, the weather is always tempting you to be outside to enjoy, to walk, to play, to run errands, to do nothing or whatever.  This mountain air is crisp and clear welcoming all who want to breathe it.  We are having cool nights and most often warm days.  Perfect weather.  And, yes, I know that will change, but it’s great to enjoy it while we are so blessed.  I know little about what the winter will bring, but I suspect there will be no planting done in November and no flowers to enjoy all winter.

The trees are only now beginning to turn with the brilliant reds, golden yellows, and piquant oranges.  It has been so long since I’ve seen them turn and the beauty amazes me after too many years of doing without.  I constantly look out the windows to see the mountain ranges that line my backyard.  Whether shrouded by clouds or majestic in their clarity on clear days, they stand there like sentinels watching over us.  They are so far away that I can only see the erose edges of the farther ones but can make out the trees of the closer range.  They thrill me standing there as they have for these centuries proud and unbending to man and mother nature.  It has been decades since I have lived in or near the mountains and, yet, it almost seems as though they have waited for my return.  True, I lived on the other side of the mountains now than I did in my youth, but they are the same on either side. 

Critters in Mississippi included mosquitos, geckos, hummingbirds, other noisy breeds of birds and the cacacophony of cicadas.  Here, I see fat wooly worms, adult and babies, softly trilling birds that sing clearly.  I have seen and heard the call of geese and watched a hawk spiralling as he sought his prey.  The skies seem as full of life as do the pastures just beyond the back yard.  There is a small herd of cows which graze contentedly quite often there and, oddly, I miss them when they are elsewhere.  Yesterday, the farmer drove up and down the field in machinery that spewed out a black manure like substance obviously feeding the field that feeds the cattle.  There is talk of possibly seeing deer this winter and I hope to spot them.  As I watch the change of seasons, I’ll now watch for the change of God’s creatures with the weather.

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