With my review copy of The Hole in Our Gospel by Richard Stearns, Jeanne Damoff's poignant Parting the Waters, and more than one cup of coffee, I spent hours on the backyard swing yesterday. I could (should) have accomplished some serious reading with the chunk of unhurried time before me, but I never made it past the acknowledgements, introduction, and prologue of The Hole...
How was I supposed to concentrate with a cacophony of red-bellied woodpeckers, crimson cardinals and boisterous blue jays (not to mention the neighbors' geese and roosters) carrying on around me?
I suppose I could have gone inside the house, but why would I want to do that?
The prodigal goldfinches also returned. I have no idea where they have been, but I was thrilled to have them back, even if they are still mostly dressed in their drab winter plumage.
And the painted buntings. What can I say. Are y'all tired of seeing them in every post these days? Please forgive me. Their wintering days on Pollywog Creek will most likely come to an end within the next two weeks, and I'll return to my never-ending fascination with weeds and insects wildflowers.
The last weekend in February is a big deal in our little community. I'll have photos next week, Lord willing, but for now think swamp cabbage fritters, gator tail and pumpkin indian fry bread.
