Riverview

Though my life seems to get busier with every year, it is good to be back with you sharing some of my views.

    During the winter months my bird feeder, which I view from my large bay window, has been a very busy place. So many beautiful song birds were here all winter, and I have a Golden Book to check their identity. They love to rest in the huge fig bush near the feeder.

    Even though it is bare of leaves, it has many branches. It has been bearing delicious figs since the 1800’s and I had eleven preservings in late summer. Since I have so many friends that enjoy them, it is hard to have a jar on hand for myself. As spring ushers in I enjoy seeing the birds building their nests, especially the blue birds by my home and the osprey on the pond. Getting up early, I am able to hear the music of the birds before I start off on another busy day.

    How blessed I have been to tutor kindergarten students on Monday and Wednesday mornings at Cople Elementary School and my meeting days usually come on Tuesdays. Keeping a home and lawn will keep one stepping when you add in the many errands it requires. How I long for the time at the typewriter to continue my third book. Eye surgery last spring has caused delay as well as my mission schedule which seems to increase every week. I no longer take the music of the birds for granted.

    This former quiet little seaport village of Coles Point has been discovered by far too many people. Shortly after the morning music of the birds, the noise of the power saws and bulldozers cutting down trees and clearing land drones from the Potomac to the Machodic. The small highway running through the center of our small village has so much traffic I have to be careful crossing the road to get my morning paper. Heavy equipment, dump trucks, etc. are in and out as more and more land is cleared for the condominiums being planned, and paved streets are already in place for the new buildings. I treasure every tree I see on my lawn at my neighbors and around the pond. Joyce Kilmer’s poem rings in my mind. “I think that I shall never see; a poem as lovely as a tree.” I think that I never thought I would live to see the occupation of waterman almost extinct. Everything seems to be geared for pleasure for those who seek refuge from the cities. I miss my long walks on the beach where I could commune with nature and my God. Only memory brings me the joy of boat riding, crabbing, and fishing again. In my golden years, I am grateful for golden memories, and isn’t it wonderful sunsets are still beautiful.