It’s cool still, but as the sun rises it brings heat with it. The birds are not in the feeder, but I can hear them in the trees all around me. I wish I knew how to identify birds by their song better than I do, but I don’t. I hear cardinals calling – easy to identify. I can pick out frog-song; that steady low, sweet sound that often sounds like crickets singing in the grass. There is a slight breeze causing a gentle undulation in the tree tops; leaves flutter softly all around; the beautiful, romantic silvery, gray-green Spanish moss swaying as it hangs low to the ground from tree branches. There seems to be an excessive sound of traffic on the distant highway and on the main road to town; I am not sure why so early on Sunday morning. The world will slowly start creeping in again soon, I know. The pandemic has caused so much less reason to be out and about, and early this Sunday morning, it seems others must have more reason than I to be away from home.
I’m still in the process of becoming, even now, as I sit here on my porch, listening to birdsong, watching moss sway, seeing spiderwebs glisten in the sunshine; the raucous call of crows adding to the musical track. Even now, I continue to become who it is I was meant to be. Each and every day; it’s a new adventure, a new world, a new life full of new chances. And I am still becoming Me.