About a year and half ago I moved from Atlanta to a little town in a historic district located northeast of Atlanta.

The house had recently been restored; complete with a fenced in backyard, security lights, and a large vacant lot between my house and a neighbor’s. The lot has a white picket fence with an arched entrance. At the back edge are blueberry and Muscatine vines growing over the arches. The entire lot is completely filled with azaleas, now in full bloom.  The white and pink azaleas are a remarkable sight when I look out my window every morning. They remind me of the Beatrice Potter stories.
 
After a lengthy drought here in Georgia, the April showers came in full force. Now the weather is warming so I take 3-year-old Prince William (my grandson) outside to play. A couple of days ago, while sitting on the patio, two bumblebees playfully chased each other around our heads. Watching them play, I wondered if any one had ever figured out why they fly.

Growing up, I heard that according to what was understood about the laws of aerodynamics at that time, bumblebees were not supposed to fly because their bodies were too large and heavy for such a small wingspan. I always wondered if any one had ever figured it out.
 
We saw a beautiful humming bird suspended in mid air feeding from some early blooming flowers. We also saw a monarch butterfly lying on the ground for which I think slammed against something due to the recent high winds. I did not want Prince William to see or he would ask a dozen questions as to why.

The lovely white dogwood tree spread over my patio like an umbrella and the pecan trees are springing forth with buds. I have never eaten any of the pecans from that tree because the many squirrels around eat them or bury them for winter before I get a chance to pick them. The squirrels annoy the majority of my neighbors, but I have always adored squirrels, and as a child had a pet squirrel.
 
Awhile back, my 10-year-old granddaughter (the Jackson Pollack technique artist) and I wrote a book together about three flying squirrels we named Nutmeg Nellie, Dit Da, and Sagarue.

I first began by naming the mother squirrel Nutmeg Nellie, then asked her to name the father squirrel and when she said, “John,” I said, “no we are not naming him John, think of another name.”

That’s when she came up with Sagarue, which I thought was rather cute. When I suggested she name the baby squirrel, she blurted out Dit Da. They are rather unusual names but we had a lot of fun and she could weave the most interesting stories about the things these three squirrels would do. Her imagination seemed to have no boundaries when it came to weaving stories and I wrote them all down.
 
Because I live near Lake Lanier, animals wonder around at night and sometimes get under the fence. The other night, I looked out and saw a huge possum wondering around looking for food in my backyard.
 
Seeing the flowers in full bloom, the trees budding, the birds flying, the bumblebees and squirrels playing, is a great joy to watch and share with the wide-eyed wonder of children.  Living long enough to be able to sit and enjoy the wonders of nature with my grandchildren is one of the great rewards of not having to get up and go to work at a job.
 
I’m sure there are many others out there with interesting stories to share, and I invite you to write about them, sharing with others via this wonderful Internet medium. I look forward to hearing them.
 
Let Freedom Ring!
 
JUST ME,
AC

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