Just a quiet moment of awe to share:

I grew up in a sub-suburban area, with woods and swamps behind the houses on either side of the street. We had a birdfeeder that you could see from the kitchen and the dining room that extended on an armature out from the porch, and we also threw birdfood on the gravel driveway for the non-perching birds. On quiet winter mornings, a special treat were the mourning doves, who were pretty shy, but a few would come feed in the drivey, sometimes a half-dozen or so at a time. We never knew how many there were in the woods, but the morning before the Blizzard of '78, we counted 33 mourning doves in the driveway at one time: we knew the storm was going to be more than the "flurries" that were forecasted. The doves were always quiet, with little murmuring coos at best, and have lovely, subtle coloring, and would flee at the slightest disturbance. Special.

I live in a city now, a pretty suburban city, but a city nonetheless, But we, too, have (thin) woods behind our house, and I scatter seed on the snow all winter for the juncos, sparrows, squirrels, blue jays, and even the pheasant partakes on occasion. But in the almost 6 years we've lived here, I never see some birds that I knew from childhood.

Last week, on one of my usual hurried weekday mornings, I rushed out of the house, tossed my bag on the passenger seat and got in the car. I looked out the windshelid and there, on the path right in front of me, at eyelevel because there's a hill, were two lovely still mourning doves!

I sat, in awe at their quiet presence in my harried morning, amzaed that they were here, so close to so many people, cars, roads and noise.

Just a small miracle on an ordinary day. I hope they come again some time.