Even in the heat of August and in the midst of drought, a walk along the diminishing creek shares secret glories.
This week, here in the Texas hill country, I saw ordinary little miracles.
A green kingfisher winged above the creek at my eye-level as I stood on the bank.
Turkey gobblers lolled in the shade of an oak.
A yearling vermilion flycatcher stopped to collect an insect on a milkweed plant.
Trees seemed to be focusing on reproduction in this driest part of summer.
Pecans held clusters which will ripen in October.
Bald cypress branches displayed an exceptional number of green conelets whose scales will release seeds this fall.
The escarpment cherry trees along the trail appeared wilted, leaves folded in an effort to hold on to moisture, and they had already dropped their tiny cherries on the ground underneath.
As close friends and family dealt with sobering difficulties this week, and news media featured details of chemical warfare and dying dolphins, I gained a respite on my walk.
Somehow, nature goes on about its business, carrying forward, feeding our spirits.
What gives you respite from worries?
Describe ways in which nature seems to carry on its business.