Wild Turkeys, Rain, and the Unhurried, Relentless Presence

Yesterday the wild turkeys were milling about on the driveway when I returned home after spending a week away. They looked up as I approached as if to say, “Oh, were you gone?” then meandered on up the mountain in no great hurry. They are rarely in any great hurry here.

And that’s part of what I love about living here, the No Great Hurry-ness of the mountain. The relentless Presence I keep encountering.

Today between rain squalls, we walked slowly again on the land, picking and sampling ripe haws, enjoying the wide fields of goldenrod, collecting colorful maple leaves.

Beezus and Goldenrod bouquet
Beezus and Goldenrod bouquet

Turkeys, rain, blooms, leaves: all of this happens here despite my presence or absence, and even despite my support or assistance. It all keeps not-hurrying along, following the season, living and dying: doing what must be done. Of course I worry about the many mistakes we’re making in the world, and I work toward remedying those and learning to do better, but I doubt I will have the final word or the final healing. We probably won’t be the last ones standing on this beautiful planet, either.

The turkeys might, though. The haws, the rain. The relentless, unhurried Presence.

I find a certain reassuring peace in that.

4 comments on “Wild Turkeys, Rain, and the Unhurried, Relentless Presence

  1. Mary Hunter Purdy

    Lovely. Thank you. Welcome home.

    • Lisa Creech Bledsoe

      It has been a good week of birth and togetherness. And it’s good to be home.

  2. The Presence. A good way of saying it.
    I told my husband something similar today re our impact on changing the way the world is going. But, we will keep on doing what we do, and Nature will keep on doing what she does, and she will outlast all our human follies.

    • Lisa Creech Bledsoe

      Yes. I’m sorry for the ways we’ve been unhelpful or outright damaging, and I’m also grateful for her transcendance.

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