This evening I went out onto the front porch to take a phone call from a long ago friend. As I sat waiting, the cool air felt fresh compared to the stuffy house. Fireflies flashed, peepers peeped and the bull frog sounded off. Coco quietly munched grass not too far off. The children settled in for the evening and as I listened to their chatter another sound caught my ear.
There were two, echoing each other on the front part of the farm.
I wanted to cry, hearing that favorite sound of mine. Worries about my dad, along with worries about my ailing, almost 99 year old grandpa, along with other troubles that try hard to capture my attention seemed to fade away, at least for a few minutes.
Their call is the most lovely serenade, the sweetest hymn. It makes me feel loved. Safe.
I wonder why? Plaintive, their song, brings back sense memories of Central Texas and home and being young and cared for.
Maybe I just like that music. Slightly rare. Special.
Dear whipporwills, I thank you for coming back to the farm. I hope you will find a nice place to nest and bear young. If there is anything I can do, besides not mow down the fence rows and not spray poisons on our grassy areas, let me know.
You are so very welcome, humble bird friends. Please stay for a very long time. Your song brings me great joy.