My house sitter Marcie knows how to relish and savor my home on the hill, perhaps better than I do, because I always have a long list of jobs I must do. I look around the garden and see all the weeds I must pull. Marcie who also is a gardener looks and sees the flowers.

In the mornings when Marcie is at my house, she likes to take her mug of freshly brewed coffee outside to sit on the wooden bench under the maple tree. Kali my old dog is still inside, asleep and snoring. From the bench Marcie can see all the birds who flock to the feeders: the cardinals in the bright coats, the chickadees who bob through the air, and the tufted titmice who wait on the branches. Sometimes the bluebird darts inside its special feeder for its treat of dried mealworms, and the downy woodpecker taps at the suet feeder. On the rough bark of the maple the white breasted nuthatch hops headfirst down the trunk, seeking insects. 

The world is filled with jubilant birdsong. Under the feeders the gray squirrels and chipmunks compete for fallen seeds. One morning Marcie was sitting so silently that the red fox who has a den by the fence came to the feeder for fallen seeds. It sensed Marcie’s presence, raised its head, and looked directly into her eyes before it turned and ran.

I think I must take my own mug of coffee and sit on the bench under the maple tree and open myself to the quiet morning.

Kristin Moyer

Written September 2013–posting November 2023