The nature edition

Since we finally have a house with a yard, we decided to begin a compost heap at the edge of the trees. We knew that something had been eating our scraps and weren't entirely sure we wanted to continue feeding whatever animal was making a meal out of our leftovers. I didn't like the idea of inviting a mangy dog into the yard where my children play. My fears were squashed, however, when I woke up early one morning to find four gigantic crows huddled around the heap. They were picking at the food with great enthusiasm, and I was impressed by their enormous size. They certainly appeared much larger than your garden variety crow, and I began to quote Edgar Allen Poe's "The Raven" in my head.

"Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'"

After a little bit of investigation, I found that while crows are more common, ravens can also be found in Georgia and are about one-third larger. I watched as they flew away with their ebony feathers almost blue in the morning sunlight. I have seen nothing more than blackbirds and crows since that moment, but I'm keeping my eyes open in hopes that the ravens will return.


The kids and I went for a Thursday night ride after a quick trip to Publix for baking powder. Emily has been strongly resisting sleep lately, and David continues to strongly resist meal times. As a result, my house has been a nightly den of screams and protests. It begins with David's "I don't want supper" at 6:45 and stretches through until Emily finally gives up her struggle somewhere around 11:30. As a result, Johnathan and I have been extremely irritable, and by Thursday night, I was nearing meltdown proportions. When the kids were quiet and content in the car, I found that I simply couldn't return home to madness. I rode away from our house and through Silver City, enjoying the cool night air and savoring the sound of silence. As I cut onto the go-nowhere road behind my aunt's house, two pairs of glowing eyes bobbed out in front of my car. I slowed to a crawl and stared at the two young raccoons that appeared in the flood of my headlights. When I stopped, they stopped. They stood up on their little legs and stared into the blinding brightness. I'm pretty sure they were too blinded to make out anything, but they cocked their cute heads and pawed at the air in a vain attempt. When I crept forward again, they hesitantly scampered back into the grass at the side of the road. Raccoons are notoriously curious, and it was amazing to see that inquisitive personality shining through at such a moment.

The family had an exciting adventure at Poole's Mill last weekend, and I was the only member who didn't slip on the slick rocks. Johnathan and David had wet backsides, and poor Emily wiped out entirely in a moment of over-confidence.

We spend so much time pushing nature out of our way, but there are moments where it stretches out a friendly hand and invites us back into the fold.