Give us this day by Mimi Simmons

I am so glad that Mimi, inspired by Ellin’s suggestion that we share joyful memories, sat down first thing this morning and wrote these words. Reading them is a welcome and needed break from politics, a reminder that we live in a world that can feed our souls, not just deplete them.

Trump Campaign Says It Will Continue Legal Fight After Michigan Certification—US News & World Report

More GOP senators back transition as GSA recognizes Biden’s win—CNN

Millions Of Americans Traveling For Thanksgiving, Ignoring CDC Advice—NPR

November 23, 2020

Give us this day
by Mimi Simmons, Washington State

In our new home near a pond, each day we see wild creatures. Often herons and mergansers. Sometimes cormorants and once a river otter. Nearly always present are crows and mallards.

From spring through fall, we hear and see tiny green frogs. My grown daughter has always been fond of them so I now have a habit of texting her a picture of the latest sighting, captioning it Give us this day, our daily frog. Hiding in the lettuce or jasmine. Hopping madly across the grass. Tiny new frogs in the spring. Larger ones that seem to turn brown in the fall.

During summer, there are many dragonflies, mostly bright blue but some black and white. An occasional red. They swoop through the air and sometimes land and hold still long enough for me to marvel at their details. Warm nights, we watch bats dance with acrobatic moves above the pond. We are thankful to both the dragonflies and bats for mosquito control.

Trumpeter Swans spend their winters here. From late October until March, we are lucky to live on their daily route so we see them fly directly over our house morning and evening. After living here well over a year, we still rush to the windows or outside to see them when we hear their honking. Sometimes they fly silently and close enough that we can hear their huge wings beat against the air.

Each of these sights fills me with joy. A group of flickers on the lawn. A kingfisher hovering over the pond. Sometimes the feeling lasts and I walk through my day, blissful. My husband calls that my Uncontrollable Happies.

During these dark times with so much to be concerned about and months of isolating, these small connections with nature sustain me. Nourish me. And it is a prayer, giving thanks for nature and daily joy.