After all of this
I will pour out my Spirit on all kinds of people.
Your sons and daughters will prophesy.
Your elderly will have revelatory dreams;
your young men will see prophetic visions.

Joel 2:28, New English Translation

 

Let’s face it.  I am no longer young.  I am in fact a ‘lady of a certain age.’  A venerable elder.  But, elderly?? I resemble that remark! Well my dear, if the shoe fits, wear it.

 

And I did have a revelatory dream:  “If you move your elliptical machine to a new place, with a different view, perhaps you will get on it and exercise.”  So I did.  My exercise station now affords a closer view of our beloved disappearing fountain:

and a heretofore unavailable while exercising view of our myrtle grove in the back corner of our yard.  Aha, you skulking squirrels and thrashers, I see you!

 

The new vista pleases me, and hast caused me to climb upon the elliptical two days in a row (I know, I know, will it last?)

 

So I was watching the fountain this morning and what should I see but a small goldfinch, flirting fearfully with the upper rim.  He or she fluttered in every one minute or so, five or six times, drawing ever-closer to the rim.  But thirsty as he was, he just couldn’t work up the nerve to brave the turbulence. He flew away, out of my sight.  Five minutes ensued. I kept pedaling and had almost forgotten him when back he came, this time to the rocks at the base of the fountain.  From this sturdy foothold he was free to drink a delicious draught of fountain water as it cascaded smoothly down.

 

His persistence in finding a way that works for him is an inspiration to me.

 

So is the attitude expressed is this song that recently came my way!

 

She is only a little chickadee
Just a common backyard bird
And she knows no care or worry
She is happy in this world

Just a simple little chickadee
With a simple song to sing
She’s not a peacock or a toucan
Not some fancy-colored thing

But she can fly high, she can fly
Anywhere she’d care to roam
And call anywhere
Her home

And I said, Tell me, little chickadee
Don’t you wish sometimes to be
Someone bigger, someone more beautiful
And this is what she said to me

If I were bigger, or more beautiful
If I had fancy colored wings
It would not make me someone better
‘Cause these are not important things

‘Cause I can fly high, I can fly
Anywhere I care to roam
And call anywhere
My home

Chenille Sisters, from “Teaching Hippopotami to Fly,” 1996