By Louie Ferrera

The fog is quiet as a dream. Sunny mornings sing, foggy mornings whisper. The sky today is a grey blanket, the diffused light deepens the infinite shades of green and colors become more saturated. The air is absolutely still. A couple of tiny songbirds occasionally fly across my field of vision, zipping from feeders to trees and beyond.

The times we’re living in are on hyperdrive and becoming more difficult for me to make sense of every day. It’s nearly impossible to shut out the noise. A morning like this is one time when the static and background noise fades away and my head is actually clear enough to think…or not to think, I can just be. Today I’m not waiting for the other shoe to drop, the playing field is even and my mind is calm. A foggy morning like this is the absolute best kind of morning ever. 

A Townsend’s warbler, a regular autumn arrival, has just shown itself to me for the first time. I’m watching it bathe in one of our fountains right now. This is a sure sign that a new season is waiting at the doorstep. The air feels different today too but perhaps I’m just breathing easier and deeper. The summer heat has been so blistering. The impending arrival of autumn and the dream-like gift of this  cool and soothing morning is the reward for enduring those infernal days. Beautiful birds are everywhere! The only way to really observe them, to actually be among them, is to sit motionless with the silence and peace and let the birds come to me. The white breasted nuthatch, simply stated, is a gift from Gaia. The Wilson’s warblers, titmice, chickadees, towhees and finches are all miracles on the wing. And where would we all be without those feisty and heroic little sprites, the hummingbirds? The reality of their existence is almost too fantastic to believe. Hummingbirds go into a state of torpor (near death) every night only to be reborn in the morning. They are the only bird that can fly up, down and sideways and hover like a helicopter. There are seven different hummingbird feeders around our yard, we always keep them filled.

Other sounds gradually fade in as the morning goes on: the chatter of our resident grey squirrels and the owl- like “hoo, hoo” of a mourning dove, the slight tinkling of a wind chime. The rising sun is securely tucked in under the fog blanket and the sky gradually brightens. Traffic sounds are now audible in the distance as the rest of the world begins to awaken. Our cat Ella is outside now so the birds are a bit more leery. She usually leaves birds alone and seems content to just sit back and observe them, swishing her tail inquisitively The spell of this unique morning has been broken and I awaken from a dream state feeling renewed. I breathe in the last wisps of peacefulness to tide me over until the next time.