In birds (and squirrels?) is poetry, energy, joy; in them is life, pure and untrammeled, unadulterated, and holy. Brian Doyle, American Writer, 1956-2017
Miniscule burgundy buds are barely visible on the elm tree off my back porch. Greenish grass pokes through melting snow. Red squirrels dash about the backyard, digging, chasing, and cavorting. They lead a spirited life, filled with entertaining antics. Like the time a squirrel sat inside my Halloween pumpkin devouring its orange nectar. Or the time one of them repeatedly did back flips off the rosebud tree. Or, just today I watched as one of the furry entertainers lay belly up on the ground tossing a twig in the air with his paws.
It is late winter in the Midwest. Mating season for red squirrels. It’s obvious where the phrase “acting squirrely” came from. These bushy tail critters chase each other with unadulterated abandon. Their silliness is the essence of joy.
As sunlit hours reach into the evening, I yearn to walk barefoot in the grass—and, secretly, I’d love to do backflips off the red bud tree. Spring equinox is approaching and with it comes a welling up of energy—not only in my backyard wildlife but in me as well. What joyful, silly, creative quest will I pursue as I stretch my arms toward the golden sun?
Leave a Reply