Only the squirrel-proof feeder hanging from the sweetgum tree near the backyard swing is filled with seed during summer on Pollywog Creek. Our winter visitors long ago left their southern refuge for northern roosts, and only when they return in late fall, will there be seed again in all the feeders.
Birds are creatures of habit. Not twenty feet from the empty sunflower seed feeder hangs an abundance of fresh seed, but this tufted titmouse insists on prying the few remaining stale sunflower seeds from the feeder he's always visited.
I can be just like that silly tufted titmouse - insisting on visiting the same places, looking for the same mercies, expecting the same blessings - when God is offering an abundance of fresh food, new strength, greater joy if I'd just open my eyes and look.
That there be places of quiet before the Lord each day - linking on Saturdays with Sandra...
