Snow has blossomed all around. The cotton fields are white. With a little imagination, a cotton field, this time of year, looks like the remnants of a snowfall. Cotton is a pretty crop that blooms in shades of pink and purple in the summer. The cotton itself is pretty and folks often use it in arrangements. Picking cotton is an awful job. The soft cotton is encased in a tough, sharp casing, that pricks the picker without mercy. My grandmother said her hands would be so sore for days, after picking. Of course now the process of picking cotton is a mechanical one and usually harmless.
Since there was no school today, I left for Elizabeth city early, just after the first light had brightened the rabbit patch. The trees are especially pretty, now. I saw the plum colored cherry and the apricot crepe myrtle while driving. The woods seemed gilded in shades of gold as the sun cast its’ morning light. Autumn is a lovely time, I thought.
There was very little traffic so I could take note of the natural beauty occurring now-and I did not come up short. Twice, I saw blackbirds flying. This is a particularly beloved sight for me.
A long time ago, calamity descended on me and affected me as nothing ever had. I was sure I would never get clear of it. In despair, one morning I cried out to the heavens and presented my case. I was sure that I could certainly never take pleasure in life again and so was destined for a life of gloom. Surely, with this hanging over me, I could not serve any purpose in life. At that moment, I heard far off , the song of blackbirds. They flew right over me for a good while. They seemed to stretch from one horizon to the other. I was surprised that even briefly, I had ceased my lamenting. Somehow I felt great comfort that something remained unchanged in the midst of my chaos and I took heart that other moments were bound to appear as if to cheer me on. As it turned out I was right- and so I remember that morning, whenever I see blackbirds flying.
Lyla and I took a walk, not long after breakfast. The air was brisk and colorful leaves discarded from ancient trees littered the sidewalk. We heard a ruckus and saw it was a bluejay arguing with a dove about something. Bluejays are known to be quarrelsome and apt to steal from unguarded nests, so they aren’t popular with all folks-but you know I love them any way. I have seen a blue jay send out a warning to the the bird community when he spots a snake or a hawk. At those times, birds of all feathers will flock together, but it is the bluejay that leads the battle.
The neighborhood was quiet this morning. We watched some ducks gliding in the laughing river . The sky was cloudless and there wasn’t even a slight breeze. I expect we will walk again before supper. It is just too nice out, in autumn and it seems almost sinful, not to notice.