A story going straight to my sternum. Thank you, Candace. Both of these birds bring magic to me. I love to hear the plaintive hoots of owls seeking each other in the night. And to hear a meadowlark pierce the crystaline silence of the desert stirs the heart's joy every time. Thank you for this story.
I love your personal touch, Candace. It makes me feel a little guilty about posting only my insipid little stories. Maybe I can send out elk seeds to my subscribers so they can grow their own elk. Or Cheerio donut tree seeds.
I’m not really sure if gift giving is my gift. But I certainly appreciate that it’s yours.
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story, Candace & Rose! ✨️
I live in New England as well (MA), so no meadowlarks here either. I'm glad for YT, where I found a video of a meadowlark singing. Listening, I can imagine the joy of hearing this bird's call at dawn after a long, dark night. 🎶🎵
🦉 And the owls! 😁 One night I sat out on the back deck of the home where I'm living to watch for Perseid meteors flashing across the sky. I was sleepy, so my eyelids were heavy and did not stay open long enough to see any meteors. I consider my star-gazing sit a win because I was treated to the gentle hooting of owls calling to each other in the trees not far away. 🌠🦉
Beautiful! I grew up in a former cornfield that had become part of the Chicago suburbs. Fortunately, no one had yet evicted the meadowlarks and their beautiful music. Now I live in the Pacific Northwest. We have lots of beautiful owls, but no meadowlarks. Thanks for the lovely reminder.
How nature speaks to us. For those who can't hear a meadowlark, I recommend listening to Ralph Vaughn Williams' "enchanting, heart-stirring," haunting "The Lark Ascending" for solo violin and orchestra. He beautifully paints the bird in music, and the final ascending notes always make me cry.
A story going straight to my sternum. Thank you, Candace. Both of these birds bring magic to me. I love to hear the plaintive hoots of owls seeking each other in the night. And to hear a meadowlark pierce the crystaline silence of the desert stirs the heart's joy every time. Thank you for this story.
I love your personal touch, Candace. It makes me feel a little guilty about posting only my insipid little stories. Maybe I can send out elk seeds to my subscribers so they can grow their own elk. Or Cheerio donut tree seeds.
I’m not really sure if gift giving is my gift. But I certainly appreciate that it’s yours.
Meadowlarks!!!!
Thank you for sharing this beautiful story, Candace & Rose! ✨️
I live in New England as well (MA), so no meadowlarks here either. I'm glad for YT, where I found a video of a meadowlark singing. Listening, I can imagine the joy of hearing this bird's call at dawn after a long, dark night. 🎶🎵
🦉 And the owls! 😁 One night I sat out on the back deck of the home where I'm living to watch for Perseid meteors flashing across the sky. I was sleepy, so my eyelids were heavy and did not stay open long enough to see any meteors. I consider my star-gazing sit a win because I was treated to the gentle hooting of owls calling to each other in the trees not far away. 🌠🦉
Beautiful! I grew up in a former cornfield that had become part of the Chicago suburbs. Fortunately, no one had yet evicted the meadowlarks and their beautiful music. Now I live in the Pacific Northwest. We have lots of beautiful owls, but no meadowlarks. Thanks for the lovely reminder.
This was beautiful
Wow, this story hits home in such a gripping way. Currently, I would describe myself with a heart full of pain.
This past spring, the Great Horned Owls calling back and forth through the pine trees in Colorado led me down a path of precious remembering.
And somewhere in this heart full of pain, there is letting go of the life I once had in Maine. Grieving. Loving. Grateful despite it all.
The meadowlark sings, and we recall how dimensional we all are. We survive. With many helpers along the way.
Thank you, Candace and Jennifer Rose 🤍
How nature speaks to us. For those who can't hear a meadowlark, I recommend listening to Ralph Vaughn Williams' "enchanting, heart-stirring," haunting "The Lark Ascending" for solo violin and orchestra. He beautifully paints the bird in music, and the final ascending notes always make me cry.
Meadowlarks - the first sign that spring is on its way here in Salida. I want them to be the welcoming sound at my memorial service.
How lovely.