Gratitude

It has been an absolutely gorgeous fall. We've had an unusual number of sunny days (or at least it seems that way), the colors have been spectacular and long lasting, and the wildlife has been abundant. I've been feeling an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude lately. Last night and the night before, as the glowing full moon illuminated the sky, I heard coyotes, maybe only 50 yards from our house, yipping, howling, and what can only be described as celebrating or rejoicing (I may be anthropomorphizing, but it's so hard to feel any other way about their joyful and wild calls once you've heard them). The raw beauty of that sound excites me, and makes me feel alive.

 The ducks and geese take advantage of the pond before it completely freezes over.

One of the reasons I love the transition of the seasons most is the changing presence of so many birds. Bald eagles have been flying over our house, announcing their presence with their long, shrill call, making their way to or from the river where they can be seen every day now, circling high above and perching on a now bare towering cottonwood. A lone, charcoal gray dipper sang on the bank of the river a few days ago as we walked by--we stopped to listen to the long, warbling, breathtakingly beautiful sound (scroll down on the link and listen to the call, it will enchant you). A flicker landed on the railing of our deck a couple of days ago and snuggled right up next to a bird statue that we have, looking toward the window and then pecking at pine cones in a nearby ponderosa. The black-capped chickadees have been more exuberant than ever in recent weeks, coming in flocks, and chirping and singing as they clear the trees of their seeds on their way to their wintering grounds. The great blue heron that spends most of its days near our house on the river continues to startle me as I round a corner and its enormous and slow flapping wings carry it above us. And the great horned owl has already begun its winter mating calls from the cottonwood stands at Lolo Pond. The wild mallards are still around and noisily quacking at Lolo Pond every morning when I walk by, but their numbers are dwindling as more migrate south every day. And every evening I get the great blessing of hearing Canada geese honking in great V's overhead--one of my favorite things about living near a river and in the migration path of so many waterfowl.

The sky has been dynamic and mesmerizing (as it so often is in Montana), and my heart is filled on a daily basis by way the lighting in the evening and early morning that makes everything look so alive and beautiful. The ponds are just beginning to freeze, sheets of ice breaking up into large plates by the afternoon, and in the morning, the fallen leaves hold a powdery, shimmering layer of frost from the gathering and settling of the night's cold heavy air. I am so grateful for the beauty that we get to experience living here near Lolo Pond and the Bitterroot River--and the diverse beauty of being here on this amazing planet.

And then, my dear friend Deanna sent me this link. It is very, very well worth the time it takes to watch it. My teacher posted this to her Facebook page and wrote, so clearly and beautifully (as usual): "Gratitude for this day, AS IT IS, nothing added. Just This."

This is incredibly powerful, isn't it? And for me, also incredibly auspicious in its timing. Gratitude has been a theme in my life lately, and one I want to stick around. I recently was reminded of the important practice of thinking of (or writing, or speaking) the things that you are grateful for when you wake up, on your way to work, before dinner, or before bed. This simple practice has transformed my days, and my life--I am going to make it a ritual in my life instead of letting it slip away as I have in the past. I hope all of you are able to do the same. Blessings of gratitude on this auspicious day!