The Bluebird

I was worrying yesterday on several fronts, family illness, frozen stuff, stuff that is going to freeze if that stove doesn't hurry back from Wisconsin, and just in general because it is my nature. I am a gloomy cuss especially in winter. 


Went into the parlor, which is where I dry my laundry on laundry bars....a slow process without the furnace.


I was dismayed to see that some geraniums I started from seed last spring are pretty frost bitten around the edges. Was debating whether to move them out into the living room or just let them go and start new next spring. 


Suddenly there was a bright flash outside the window.


The mockingbird.


 Mobbing somebody who dared trespass on his hallowed territory, which takes in the long lawn, the entire driveway, the field below the driveway, the other side of the house and pretty near any place he feels like being a tough guy.


 I paused to watch and there it was...a lovely bluebird perched in the little poplar by the driveway. It hunkered down a bit under the mocker's onslaught, but you could tell it wasn't daunted by all the flare and flash. My heart flew with it as it pumped its wings on down to the sumacs.


That's my daddy's bluebird there. It came to tell me to be hopeful and prayerful and positive and that he is okay at least this time. Love you dad.

This morning I am dragging plants out of the parlor and putting them wherever I can find a spot. It may look kind of funny to folks who visit, but it is just too cold for them in the unheated parlor.