birdsong on a rainy Sunday morning

If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother trying to say it in music.  ~Gustav Mahler

This morning, I awoke to rain.  Rain is welcomed by our farm as the Spring sun is heating the cool ground and tender shoots almost daily now.  The sound of raindrops softly dancing on the the mulch provides me with a sense of comfort so I opened my back door to hear it fall.  As I walked back to the other end of the house, however, it wasn’t the song of rain that filled my home–rather, it was the song of bird.

birdsong

With warmer mornings, birds arise and begin chirping, cooing, and chattering with the

morning sun.  They greet the day with a cheerful welcome in spite of wet nests and damp seed.  Instead of turning on my local NPR station, I sit on my couch, drink my tea, and listen to the sweet symphony outside my door.  These creatures delight in singing the melodies their Composer has blessed them with, even on this rainy Sunday morning.

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