Gratus

The word grateful has roots in the Latin term gratus which means pleasing to the mind. The word gratitude has become commonplace in our contemporary vernacular with books about gratitude as well as gratitude journals and daily gratitude reminders. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, here are a few moments of gratitude I experienced in the past week. (Hint: None of them include summiting Mt. Kilimanjaro or running a 10K. My life is simple.)

Yup, the Bird Club was at it again. We had a beautiful, sunny November day for our latest field trip to wetlands in our area. Despite our ongoing drought conditions we were able to spot geese, mallards, northern shovelers, snipes, ring-billed gulls and other birds hanging around the water's edges. It is always a treasure hunt.

Bonus points for spotting the two birds in the trees. It is always a highlight to spend a little time with them.

The G.O.A.T. birder of our club remarked that he wanted to go hug a particular tree on our pathway. He didn't hug it but he shared that it was a cottonwood that was almost decimated by beavers many years ago. He took it upon himself to save the tree with protective fencing and the result is a beautiful, healthy tree. The beavers may have a Wanted Poster for my friend but I have to agree that trees can be precious thing.

I came upon this excavation job by my hiking path in Arrowhead Park. As I stuck my head near the entrance of the hole so I could get a better look, my father's words came to mind, "Be careful. That could be a badger hole and you should never mess with a badger." Good advice. I kept on walking.

I know my days are numbered for hiking in the woods so I am grabbing as many days as possible. Once the snow flies I will be locked into less woodsy options. Despite my new found appreciation for the outdoors, I do not think snowshoeing, skiing or sledding are in my future. My skeletal bones are grateful for that choice.

I have made friends with wildlife at the parks. I am not sure it is reciprocal but they always listen when I greet them. This is Rusty. I think his mother is the domestic goose preening herself directly behind him. I call his mother, Mother Goose, because she is always squawking at the wild Canadian Geese as if she owns the pond. I also assume Mother Goose found a partner and the result is Rusty. I can only guess who the father is but I know Rusty feels confident in his own feathers as he swims in formation with all the other waterfowl. A lesson for all of us, I think.

The sunrises this time of year are stunning. My camera skills do not do a bit of justice to this neighborhood sunrise but suffice it to say, it was a stunner.

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,

His mercies never come to an end;

They are new every morning;

Great is your faithfulness.

(Lamentations 3:22-23)