Wednesday, July 4, 2012


Marsh Wren, Wikimedia Commons

Today’s early morning temperatures were relatively cooler than previous days which begged for a short top-down road trip and a quick detour through Starbuck’s drive through. Armed with a cranberry-orange scone and a stiff cup of coffee, the open road was beckoning under the bright summer sun rising in the blue Carolina sky.

Once I had reached the taunting curves of a two-lane rural asphalt road, the caffeine had stimulated enough brain cells to sharpen my reflexes and morph the drive into a pleasurable experience. That’s when the rather loud and complex song wafted into my hearing range. It was one of those “comfort sensations” that we all experience, like eating home-made vanilla ice cream on a hot Fourth of July family picnic. But this sensation was very pleasant to my human ear and evoked even more pleasant memories of my youthful lazy days of summertime.

The soothing sound of this little brown ball of unbridled energy has been with me since early childhood growing up on the plains of central Kansas. We would roam the pastures and parks or simply sit on open porches as the small short-winged spirits would zip from place to place gathering insects for their multiple broods each summer. And all the while they would be singing their unique and spirited song, sometimes as duets with their monogamous breeding partner. If you did catch them alighting on a small branch, their upright tail would immediately give them away.

It’s one of those spiritual experiences for me to pause and savor these serendipitous moments in life-- moments when a sound or a smell or a sight can jar your senses into remembering a past experience that has always conjured up a pleasurable and warm memory deep within your soul. Such is the remembrance of a small frenetic wren’s song for mine that now reaches decades back to my idyllic youth. And it’s a sensation that also grounds me in the knowledge that there are aspects of life in this imperfect world which can echo the perfection that exists in the next.

Wren’s song:

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