I’ve been sitting in the warm sun in our backyard. Yesterday John pulled out all of our old worn patio furniture and I’ve decided, now that our exceptionally long winter has passed, that every morning I’m able to, I’ll sit in the warmth  and read a chapter or so in a book about writing.

Today I read from “Tell it Slant,” a book I first read for a Creative Non-fiction Memoir class I took at BYU more than 10 years ago. I’ve got a writing project stewing in my mind and I want to feed some ideas.

As I was reading, I listened to the birdsongs in the old and large Honey Locust tree and my eye landed on a bluebird there, perched on a large limb covered with dry moss. She was eating a worm. I watched her head, bobbing as the worm was ingested bit by bit. A second bluebird, perhaps her mate, was nearby on another limb. He suddenly left his perch and flew to the grass near where I was sitting with my book. I watched as he hopped quickly here and there, then plunged his beak into the grass. Immediately, he pulled out a long writhing worm, secured it in his beak, and flew up into the tree to enjoy his meal. It all happened within seconds.

I sat there astounded. How did he know exactly where in that expanse of grass to land, to poke, and to find his meal? As I sat, book on lap, contemplating this impressive show of nature, the words came into my mind, “And I know right where you are, dear Ann.”

I looked at all the grass in our back yard and felt a wave of warmth and love fill my heart as I listened to the birdsongs around me.