Memory

August is the month for wattles in flower and the first daffodils.  Natures signal that winter is passing.  I can hear the birds change their song from, I'm around, to, I am here where are you, our nest needs order.

The sheep in the paddock next door, they remember me, for the handful of grass tossed over the fence. Their owner, as far as the sheep are concerned, does not provide enough hay for nibbling.  I try not to toss too much grass over the fence, because when the sheep see me, they remember the handfuls of grass, and stand at the fence asking, begging for a treat.  For a little bit of quiet, I end up giving them more grass, habit forming I think.

While I sit typing this post, I can hear a young magpie warbling over the buzz of  lawn mowers cutting grass.  The days still have a chill, but I can see the subtle changes that a new season brings.

Memory of the dry, water restricted, smoke filled years of the last decade are fading.  They have been replaced with memories of drenching rain and floods.

picture courtesy Wikimedia Commons

But after the storm, the sun comes out and shines, the rainbow glows, and reminds me that God still has promise in place.  There will always be high ground.  God remembers.



Much better than I did. I was busy, that much I remember,  I just can't remember what the busy was about, possibly lost myself in a book, or was it the mending pile.  By the time memory kicked in, I had missed the deadline for the sign up to the Christian Writer's August Blog Chain.  So this is unofficial.  I do apologize.