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…

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… 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)…

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

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

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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.

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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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