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I have a thread running through me that ran through my grandfather Frank Hill and my mother Patricia Hill Jacobs. It is a need to journal or write down things I see and hear. While both of them were historians I am more of an inspirational writer. I like to document feelings with nature or people. I feel emotions dancing inside me when I drive through the mountains or stand on an seashore. I can't identify the feeling until I sit down to write and they come flowing back to me. I hear a bird's song and it takes me out away to another place and a vision of their flight and where they are going, and what they are seeing and feeling.  I end up on a journey and it leads to so many places, sometimes I wonder how I got there. Today I was sitting on my sofa and I saw something red in the Bradford Pear tree outside. I went to the door and quietly opened the patio door. I waited as not to scare whatever it was away. In a few minutes a woodpecker appeared with his  red headdress bobbing back a forth as he pecked at the trunk of the tree. His haram appeared in their drab gray attire but lovely to watch . I also loved the powerful Canadian geese who flew by with destination on their radar.

     I am waiting for my yellow and house finches to come along with my daffodils and red tulips.  Spring is a time of new birth and second chances.