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Just Outside My Door 08/02/12

August 8, 2012
By ELAINE G. COLE - COLUMNIST (editorial@westfieldrepublican.com) , Westfield Republican / Mayville Sentinel News

I know the creed written by Argow expresses my thoughts about this season of the year. I couldn't have expressed it any better myself, and I would have liked to have met and visited with that dear writer.

Once again I greet you wishing you another delightful summer day. Although I know this season will not last forever, I'm really enjoying all the beauty I see just outside my door every day.

Our avian friends are continually at the feeders, the gold finches, dressed in gold attire, bring sunshine to our backyard even if it's cloudy or raining. Some of the others are also wearing brighter colors during this season. Numerous fledglings are arriving with their parents and many of the drink or bathe in the birdbath.

Squirrels are devouring seeds beneath the feeders and chasing each other around. The chipmunks are very vocal as they join in the fun of chasing one another, too.

The flowers in my beds are blooming magnificently and beautiful butterflies visit some of them daily to get nectar. My butterfly bushes are beginning to bloom also, and those pretty insects slit to and fro from them, too. It's always nice when the flowers have spread out so there's not as much room for the weeds to crowd in among them.

Speaking of flowers, earlier in the summer, I purchased some zinnias at the Westfield Nursery. I had asked for some tall ones and some shorter ones. I planted them in my two beds behind our house. I was amazed to see how tall those in the smaller bed were getting. Before they got so tall, their leaves looked the same size as the smaller zinnias, and I hadn't observed them since. Thus I hadn't realized their leaves were not huge. A couple days ago, a bud burst into bloom and low and behold it was a sunflower. That's not the end of the tale either.

Fact Box

A summer creed

By A. A. Argow

I believe in the flowers and their glorious indifference to the changes of the morrow.

I believe in the birds, and their implicit trust in the loving providence that feeds them.

I believe in the prayer-chanting brooks, as they murmur a sweet hope of finding the far-distant sea to which they patiently run.

I believe in the whispering winds, for they teach me to listen to the still small voice within my feverish soul.

I believe in the vagrant clouds, as they remind me that life, like a summer day, must have some darkness to reveal its hidden meaning.

I believe in the soft-speaking rains, accented with warm tears, telling me that nothing will grow save it be fertilized with tears.

I believe the golden hush of sunsets, reflecting a momentary glory of that great world beyond my little horizon.

I believe in the soft-falling dew, revealing the infinite spring of living waters for everything parched and withered.

I believe in the holiness of twilight, as it gives me sense of the presence of God and I know I am not alone. And whatever else I believe is enshrined in those abiding feelings that lie too deep for words.

Yesterday my helper, Amanda, looked out the window and saw one of the large gray squirrels jump from a feeder to a sunflower, breaking it off. Immediately it and his buddies joined in to dine on the flower seeds. I don't know how to keep them from destroying the whole bed, but Bill pulled the rest of the flowers together with a rope and removed the feeders. I don't know if that will help so they can't reach them, but I hope so. Probably now that they know about the flowers, they will just break them off at the bottom to show me how smart they are. Oh well. I still like seeing those bigger squirrels.

Maybe next year I will try and get one of my helpers to prepare a large space somewhere besides our yard so I can plant if full of sunflower seeds and have my own source for seeds. Then I wouldn't have to purchase them. It would be much cheaper, especially with the price of them now. It's a good thought and even if it never happens, maybe I will be able to do it all by myself when I get to Heaven. Or perhaps there might be plenty of those flowers already there.

 
 
 

 

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