Birdsong…

Heaven must surely be filled to the brim with birdsong.  I don’t know their names, these tiny warblers who cheerfully celebrate even the smallest improvement in winter weather — except for the obvious cardinals and mockingbirds.  In northern Arizona, a singing bird was a rarity.  The meadowlarks in the spring, with their clear, pure, three-note song, are the ones I remember.  Singing out from high perches, the always sounded romantically lonely to me.  But here, birdsong heralds the opening of day as surely as the light from the sun, so long as icy rain is not actively drenching the choir! Such joy.

I’ve said it before…

But it bears saying again:  I married way above my station.  How thankful I am for every moment and every day with my amazing husband.  This is a man who will go fishing in a hurricane.  That sounds crazy, I know.  But it is this innate belief that he can ride out any storm God sends his way is a gift he uses in so many ways.  Like when he waits patiently for the misery of illness to spend its fury, on only the promise of the calm in the eye of the storm.  And still wants to see pictures of quilts on my smart phone.  So if you’ve looked for me at the studio this week, and found that I’m not there, just know I’ve got my priorities in the right order — God, Family, Quilting — and I’ll be back at my machines as soon as he sails into a calm spot.