Thoughts for the Work Week Ahead

Sunday Sounds

Nothing like a little banjo music on a sleepy Sunday morning.  Actually, any time is the right time for the music of one of my all-time favorite artists, the incredible *Michael Martin Murphey.  The lyrics to this song seem autobiographical and touch my heart. Enjoy!

And she spoke of, being in love

With every mountain she had climbed

And she talked of, trails she’d walked up

Far above the timberline

*http://michaelmartinmurphey.com/ 

Warm Weekend Wishes

Waterfowl Offspring Updates

 

  

 

Family Number Two scootin’ down the hill. How fast my youngins’ are growing! Isn’t it odd but the two Canada Geese families have not appeared together since the original day of discovery.  In fact, I haven’t seen Family Number One at all.  

I apologize for the poor quality photo but it’s important to remember that my waterfowl are wild animals and not park pets.  My ducks are always skittish but the geese tolerate me quite well—except when there are offspring involved.  With tiny tots in tow they are on guard at all times.  Hopefully, after years of tender loving care, I will earn the total trust of my web-footed friends (like my friend Choo with her flocks!) but for now I will respect their privacy and keep to a distance.

 

Springtime Sunrise

Spring Weather

May used to be Tornado Awareness Month but I recently discovered it’s now observed in April.  I may be a month late, but the message remains timely, especially for those of us in plains states.   Unless you’re Pecos Pete, be prepared for tornados—or as they say in the southwest—cyclones.

If you don’t already have a preparedness plan, visit the FEMA site for helpful hints:  

http://www.ready.gov/tornadoes 

Back in the mid 90s, a tornado touched down in rural Stillwater and did millions of dollars of damage.  Esquire Farm, an upscale horse boarding facility, was completely destroyed, as were several other homes and buildings.  The twister clipped the end of Bon Bon Pond and took down many majestic and aged oaks.  To this day, I remain amazed that my barn was left unscathed as the funnel cloud went right over it. 

The memory of that day is still clear.  I was working in my den with the TV on in the background when the sky turned ominously dark—black with a greenish tint. Suddenly it became quiet, then, suddenly, what sounded like a freight train roared past.  A moment or two later a local meteorologist appeared on the tube urging residents of northeastern Stillwater to take cover.  Missed it by that much, Belinda! 

Walking outside to observe the damage, I was shaken by how close I had come to disaster.  A few feet and my barn would have been history.  A few yards and I would have been a mere memory.

Nearly twenty years later, the  decaying felled trees, like fallen soldiers on a battlefield, serve as a testament to the power of Mother Nature and in turn man’s relative insignificance.