Brian had just refilled the bird feeders, and almost immediately the giddy chorus returned to the trees. You would think they had been waiting for him all morning.
Within minutes, every feeder had visitors. Some claimed a perch, others searched the grass below for the seed that had already been tossed to the ground, while a few waited patiently in the branches above for an opening. Looking around, it felt less like feeding birds and more like hosting a neighborhood gathering.
Normally I would let the feeders sit for a day. There is always plenty on the ground, and I like to remind myself that nature has been feeding birds long before I ever hung a feeder.
But today is different.
Today is the first day of the “ber” months.
Or, as I like to call it… Augtober.
Around here, August feels like the doorway to autumn. The heat hasn’t left, but something has changed. The light softens. The shadows stretch a little farther. Even the breeze seems to whisper that July’s hardest days are beginning to loosen their grip.
So today, everyone got a little spoiled.
Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.
We spend so much of life reminding ourselves to be practical, to wait, to conserve, to save things for another day. But every now and then, there is room to celebrate something as simple as a page turning on the calendar.
Today, the birds celebrated Augtober.
And sitting behind the puddle, I think I did too.
One ordinary moment, observed behind the puddle.
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