Whatever He Says

Saturday mornings are deliciously lazy around our house and a time for family and friends. After the necessary focus and drive of the weekdays, the anticipation of the weekend begins to build as Friday evening draws near. I love my work, but I am thankful for the different pace of the weekend. This Saturday found me after breakfast, sitting in the morning sunshine, feet up in a recliner, still in my robe, and chatting to Rob and Mum, 3,000 miles away in England. The week before last, a dog joined their family: Bruce, the Staffordshire bull terrier; 3 1/2 years old. He belongs to my nephew John, who adopted him from friends who couldn't keep him, but on Saturday John was at work and Rob was looking after him. I could hear soft but persistent, whining in the background. Rob said that he had bought Bruce a ball that was supposed to be indestructable but that almost immediately Bruce ripped a piece off and then another, and another. Rob had taken the ball away and put it in the cupboar...

The two of us stop to pick a few raspberries growing along the Tay Shore Trail. He stole away with me on my rendezvous for health. He on his bike and me on foot. His questions pepper our trek. "How do you know that's a pheasant, Mom?, Where are her little ones?, Does she live in the forest?" I tell him what I know and suggest we look up some information when we get back to the cottage. I enjoy this time with my eldest son. He cycles alongside my walking speed. We talk about habitats and I am thankful this trail provides the opportunity for us to observe several. The Tay Shore Trail wraps itself around the shores of both Sturgeon and Hog's Bay, passing through field, woodland, and marsh. He asks me if I like the marsh and I say, "I do. I enjoy listening to the croaking bullfrogs." We pause and he points out an Eastern Bluebird. We praise God for His creation and the opportunity He has given us to enjoy it. A little later he parks his bike and gestures excited...