As I sit here typing, I hear the beautiful song of a Meadowlark. It fills my soul with joy and peace. My life gets so hectic sometimes, it seems I even forget to breathe. But this morning, I am soaking in the quiet music of the fields; a symphonic blend of crickets and songbirds, woven together with the soft rustle of tall grasses, occasionally punctuated by the lowing of cattle and the bray of a neighboring donkey.

I just returned last evening from a trip out to San Diego to attend the Women Artists of the West show, which was held at the Olaf Wieghorst Museum in El Cajon. The opening reception took place last Friday night – the museum and community really made us feel welcome and the show was well attended. Although I didn’t win an award, I felt honored just to be in the company of such talented women artists. The show is incredible – take a look!

The other reason for my trip was to visit with my family…and I was thrilled to have the opportunity to visit with my niece who was in San Diego (sadly, for a funeral) for a few days. Laurel was in Ukraine for two years with the Peace Corps and then was accepted into the master’s program at George Washington University. This summer she is working in Senegal, Africa, with the 10,000 Girls program. Although we tend to hear more about the next generation being disconnected and self-absorbed, my niece and the many of young adults like her, are proof that the caring, giving side of human nature is alive and growing. There is hope for the world!

Although my trip was short – slightly less than a week, I was able to relax a bit. I stayed with my parents, who are in their 80’s. Much of their days consist of un-rushed routine. My father raises the flag each morning, then feeds the birds and reads the newspaper while sipping a cup of coffee and listening to classical music. My mother prepares breakfast for them. Most of the day is spent reading and watching the birds that come to their feeder. Sparrows, doves, finches – sometimes unusual birds (for San Diego!) like Baltimore orioles and downy woodpeckers. And last week, a green parakeet! Most entertaining is the Crow family. My parents put out table scraps for the crows, who arrive each morning in a family unit: mother, father and two “babies” (who are as big as the parents!) The babies still want to be fed though, and carry on like spoiled brats when Mom doesn’t feed them fast enough. And they are picky, too! The pieces of bread have to be dunked in the birdbath first before Mom shoves them into their open mouths.

The sparrows flock in, filling the branches of the trees and oleander bushes in the backyard. Then they take turns, in batches of six or seven, landing on the bird feeder or on the ground below, pecking and scratching until, as one, they fly back to the safety of the bushes and another batch swoops in. It is like watching a ballet, so choreographed and seemingly effortless.

Sometimes there are skirmishes: the little hummingbirds get feisty when they want to drink sugar water and find another hummer at the feeder. The ring-necked doves and the crows squabble over table scraps. But mostly it is peaceful co-existence among variations of birds. We humans could learn a thing or two about taking what you need and leaving the rest for someone else. Settling arguments with a show of feathers and some squawking, then going about your business without thoughts of revenge.

Sitting on my parents’ back porch, watching the birds, feeling the heat of the day, sketching, reading, enjoying just being – no place to go, nothing to do, no pressure, no deadlines, no stress – reminded me of the summers of my childhood, spent watching the birds at our feeder, the clouds passing by overhead, listening to the buzz of cicadas, learning the songs of different birds, reading library books, taking a walk with my sisters, drawing, creating forts and trails in the woods. Each minute lived in the present.