Eighteenth Monday

It is rather dark this morning.  It feels humid and warm. As I sat on the porch early, a small breeze rang the chimes and whispered promise of rain to come.  And then, a little while later, it arrived, a few big drops at first and then a more gentle constant shower.

On a morning like this, I rejoice that I can hear...

917. the rain, as it begins to fall gently on porch roof, hitting dry oak leaves on the floor of the woods, and pattering on the red-tip leaves just beyond the screen.

918.  the rich, liquid, flute like song of the wood thrush, heard early this morning. Scroll down on the link if you'd like to hear and enjoy.

919.  quiet morning sounds, boys moving about, getting started on their day

920.  sweet morning greetings

921.  the cat's meow

922.  the roiling, bubbling of kettle water at a full boil

923.  the whir of the coffee grinder

924.  the knock of a moth's wings against the front window (which also makes me chuckle remembering this story we read aloud and loved).

And I'm thanking God, too, for the gift of smell and the scent of ...

925.  roses and jasmine

926.  rain

927.  coffee

928.  garden soil

929.  homemade bread, toasted

And eyes to see...

930.  peonies

931.  rhododendron blossom

 

932.  abundance of roses

These old hymn words come to mind...

He gave us eyes to see them,

And lips that we might tell,

How great is God Almighty,

Who has made all things well.

-from the hymn, All Things Bright and Beautiful by Cecil Frances Alexander, 1848