There is much on the mind of Mother Goose this morning.
I could tell you how we are having plumbing problems, and there is absolutely no amount of water draining out of our house — none.
I could opinionate about President Obama’s daring visit to Afghanistan to visit President Karzai and the American troops.
We could examine the reasons why my son may have come home from school yesterday with strained muscles in his chest after working on the fitness machine in his gym class.
I could share with you my prayer that my ex-husband would be less bitter and more forgiving towards me.
I could try to write about the overwhelmingly absurd passenger-searching policies of the TSA which seem to target the young, the old and the infirm.
However, these seem like very serious topics for a goose to address…
Instead of a heavy dissertation on current events, please relax and enjoy some music whilst I tell you a story about this balmy morning.
I woke to the mystic robin trills again this morning — she still thinks she’s a Hermit Thrush and that’s OK with me. A little identity confusion is fine. I have some of that myself…am I a goose? Am I a person? Should I honk or speak? Flap or run?
The sun was golden in its rising — like a handsome, brave prince-knight dashing into the day of battle. Glorious in his victory over the darkness, the sun invites a celebration of spring. I inhaled the sweet air of morning. There is always one spring morning in May when the air is balmy.
I love the word “balmy”. I’m allowed to use it only infrequently because of our geographical region. Our corner of the world is generally known for brutally cold winters and stifling hot summers. Spring is balmy but for only a brief time — summer is waiting impatiently in the wings. Autumn is beautiful but dry, and too often abbreviated by winter’s big rush to get started.
Balmy speaks to me of comfort. It’s easy to breathe when the morning is balmy. The air is very soft on my feathery face — just slightly moist. Inhaling and exhaling the balmy air is a joy in itself. The gentle breezes are cool and refreshing. All around me layers and shades of green, scrubbing the air for me. I cannot see it happening, but my spirit feels the trees working on my behalf.
I would imagine Professor Tolkien’s Rivendell to feel balmy. I wonder, have you been there? I wonder, is Watkins Glen State Park sometimes balmy?
I wonder, is it balmy in your world today?
Imagine a lake named Balm. As a child, I spent much time at Balm Lake in northern Minnesota. My dear grandmother, grieving the terrible loss of her son, found comfort there. The peace and quiet of the lake, the sound of small waves lapping at the shoreline, the haunting call of the loons in the evening, the twittering of the robins and the swallows, the reflection of a million birch trees on the far shore. All of the balm in Gilead could never bring healing such as Balm Lake brought to her soul.
Mother Goose herself finds soothing and restorative peace when she sits near Balm Lake.
But even in Oak Park, on balmy mornings like today, my spirit is refreshed. My heart soars, hitchhiking on the wings of songbirds. Every living creature knows there is balm in the air this morning. May your world be balmy today…
Mother Goose Smiles 