Dear Mom

My mother would have been 93 this week. How I miss her. Yet I think of her every day — in many contexts, but none so immediate as when I am observing wildlife.

It is she I think of when I move a young garter snake out of the way of the mower…


… stop to watch a barn spider catch and wrap a yellow jacket for dinner (a rare circumstance in which I feel sorry for a yellow jacket)…


… look at baby meadow voles turned up under the water trough, before carefully returning them to the nest …


… or pause to watch wild turkeys cross the north pasture.


The ravens, the hawks, the calling loons, the grouse that explode out of the brush, the mergansers feeding in the lake as the last spring snow falls…

“Look, Mom! Look!”

I was so very, very lucky to have a mother who fostered my love of the natural world.

2 Responses to Dear Mom

  1. Newly says:

    Do you remember her calling your attention to the killdeer in the cemetery in January of 1990, just as the burial rite was beginning? And I will never forget driving through the Alabama countryside in 1995 with the two of you delightedly spotting one bird after another together. Lucky us. xoxo

    • adkmilkmaid says:

      That’s interesting — now that you mention it, I do remember the killdeer. But my main memory from that graveside service is becoming absorbed by the sight of a BEE on the flowers on the coffin. Where did God find a bee for Dad in the middle of January? It made me very happy.

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