#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

At the feeder, before I even get outdoors, from the window I see a pileated woodpecker, a common flicker, a pair of cardinals, a red wing blackbird. Thanks to Frank, who keeps the feeders full. Full blown spring now, last day of April. Always a day of remembrance for me: KJC. (1956-1973) I stop and admire the maple in bloom from the river’s edge, and its red reflection on the surface. I have a busy day, starting early, and my walk is shortened. At lunch, I get to finally, a year late, celebrate my dear friend’s 60th birthday. Belatedly, we celebrate both our birthdays. Today I am Covid immune. A busy afternoon, another tech meeting for the Mass. Poetry Festival where I’m presenting on May 14. The wind charges up in the afternoon, blowing trees down and shaking all the blossomed branches. It’s a wild wind. Frank and I today have two chances for heart to heart talks about issues on our minds and hearts, and both conversations are so fruitful and comforting. In the late afternoon I sit in the as yet unplanted garden on the bench Frank made. A garden is a place for feeling under the feet the teeming energy of unseen forces at work for good in the world. Oh, earth.