The Mourning Doves gather outside my bedroom window.
I see them through the screen, the spotty glass,
an impressionist painting.
One paces, one peers in, one struts across
the once red roof.
Gentle warbling coos.
There’s no feeder here.
The Old Farmer’s Almanac says many people interpret the coo as a comforting sign
or message from angels, spirit guides, or lost loved ones.
What message do you carry little doves?
Who sent you?
So many varieties. My neighbor grows them.
I got a robocall from the Water Department Thursday night. The neighborhood might be without water between 9-3 on Friday because they were flushing fire hydrants. When the water would come back on it might run brown. Let it run til clear. I filled buckets and gallon containers early this morning to aid flushing toilets at our home. We rushed showers, ran the dishwasher. Did two loads of laundry. Turns out we didn’t need the water buckets at the ready. We had water all day Friday. My DIL said it ran brown about 8:30. All clear soon after. We got a lot accomplished in a short amount of time, preparing for a day without running water. We had a 5 gallon bottle on the counter to drink and cook with.
At the neighbor’s feeder. They enjoy the seeds.
Their fluttering and cooing sounds remind me of staying at my grandmother’s when I was young. Mouthing doves have such a distinctive call. “The male’s signature “coo-OO-oo-oo” call sounds sorrowful and melancholic to human ears.”
Ten Things you might not know about mourning doves
And the tractor driver honked and waved as he raked the infield today
My sister and I were driving downtown to get her return train ticket to New York. Buying in person at the ticket window she saved almost 40$ instead of buying online. What is that about? Mary encouraged me to get out of the car to get a better shot so I parked. We stopped on the way home.
Friday morning on the way to camp.
