Here are my morning musings from the front porch on a cloudy autumn day.

A hummer is humming, its wings whirring as it flits from flower to flower seeking nourishment for the day. Soon they will be making their arduous journey to a warmer climate.

Bees aren’t buzzing, but they dive into the bright yellow zinnias gathering nectar to store for the winter.

Mourning doves perch on the fence, swoop to the ground scratching for morsels—their soft murmurs are comforting.

The finches quietly cheep as if they are saying a long goodbye before heading south. Their bright yellow blends with the stark black. The females’ dull browns blend with the ground, the leaves, the feeder as they peck for a seed or two.

The finches, hummers, chick-a-dees sway with the tall bright yellow cup plants filling their crops with the seeds.

Bullying bluejays swoop and invade the yard with loud shrieks—get out of the way, I’m here and I’m hungry! One or two rest on the fence railing before gliding from feeder to feeder chasing the other birds away. They sit on the shepherd hooks like sentries guarding the surroundings. One or two sway on the half-hidden suet feeder hung from an oak branch.  

The sparrows are back scratching in the grass, flying through the openings of the wire fence to the newly built garden boxes filled with fresh soil and compost. Small blobs of brown flit from box to box. Imagine searching relentlessly for food all day long!

The caw-caw of crows can be heard in the distance from the tops of the oaks or maples that line the street. Signs of fall are visible in the changing colors of the leaves.

The unidentified bird returns–invisible among the dullish leaves singing its two high-pitched cheeps.

The pileated woodpecker announces his arrival with drumming—its rattling call says, “I’m here. Don’t forget about me.”

Squirrels are quiet this morning as they vacuum up the dropped seeds from the feeders, the fallen acorns, and anything else they kind find.

Uncle Kenny says the birds from his yard in far northern Wisconsin have left—now they bless the morning of the old woman sitting in her chair. Her aching legs are covered with blankets as she observes and sips her morning coffee.

She worries about climate change and how it will affect her morning scene and God’s creation.

A silent runner puts one foot in front of the other as she jogs along–wearing the same orange shirt and baseball hat at the same time each morning.

The cool breeze is refreshing—a relief from the intense heat and humidity that zapped her energy and made her crabby.

For this minute there is peace.