A Gift

Do you remember hearing about how after World War II, the Berlin Airlift dropped candy and sweets down on children in post-war Europe? (And food, I might add.) To those little ones, deprived of anything not essential (and even some of that) for so long, it must have felt like the greatest gift of all time.

Sunday was like a gift that Mother Nature gave our community. Trust me when I say November in Michigan never brings 60 degree weather. But Sunday was the exception, with a brilliant blue sky, unending sun and warmth.

One can't stay inside on a day like that (even though I did manage some art time indoors!). So, I went off for my walk to the ditch (thank you, Rick), unwilling to give up a moment of this beautiful day.

I couldn't help thinking of that super candy drop. Or of leaves that seem to pop out on the trees in the spring like magic. The leaves of early bulbs, shooting out of the ground.

That's what it was like -- people were everywhere, as if by magic. Children took over the streets on their bicycles. Men and woman walked dogs around the ditch, while others fed the ducks.

The ducks. They knew a good thing when they saw it!

I've never seen one like the big white-chested one before. It was larger than the others, so maybe it was a form of goose.

I don't know -- I just know that the little boy who fed these guys was quite possibly the most popular kid in the neighborhood.

Neighbors took the opportunity to do yard work they'd put off during the damp, cold days of late October. Piles of leaves seemed to mount up between my departure and return.

And everyone said hello, even those who were "plugged in." (For a great post on being plugged in, visit Shoreacres this week. It is spot on.)

Even Mr. Gyps got a walk in the yard! (Definite not aerobic exercise!)

Sixty in November? Am I grateful? You bet!