[T]his is a place where some days seem to feature all four seasons, and others offer only wet heat.
Days like today, when the breeze is just gentle enough to rustle the oak leaves, are meant for front porches and rocking chairs. One ought to take advantage of these porch-sittin’ days, which is why I’m outside alone in this old rocking chair while the wind moves the clouds at a slow crawl.
There’s plenty of movement out here today.
A grey squirrel searches the grass for food, until another one with a bigger, bushier tail chases him up a tree.
Spring is in full bloom here, and each day plays its own symphony.
Bees buzz among the flowers while the squirrels bark back and forth to one another, as if to argue over acorns.
Hummingbird feeders dangle from the roof to my left, and it doesn’t take long before they’re occupied.
The small bird darts in close to my head. If you sit still enough, they’ll try to see just how close they can get while they hang in the air and hum a verse with barely-visible wings.
This particular dive-bomber alights on one of the feeders, drinks its fill of sugar water and darts off into the trees again.
I look up just in time to watch a hawk glide through the air and cast quite a shadow on the ground.
A redbird follows, and turns a midair summersault before it settles on a long tree branch.
He dances better than Beyoncé.
His vibrant red feathers gave him a sharp contrast to the bright, blue sky.
The sky was angry about 4 this morning, while the wind howled and the rain fell in sheets, but you’d never know it now.
A sudden gust loosens a few leaves from the trees, and they float to the earth next to the last flowers on a big azalea bush.
A blue jay takes flight after a quick perch on a homemade bird bath, and its cry pierces the air.
It’s just part of a song sung here each spring for those who take time to listen while they take advantage of porch-sittin’ days.
This is Alabama.
This is the day the Lord has made.