The tornados and stormy weather passed north of us here in Deep South Mississippi, but in the rest of the state above us, death and destruction came in the wake of tornados, one with a 100 mile path. Here, we got only a little rain. I'm sorry for them but grateful it skipped us. I wish I had a basement to hide in, but don't, and I don't know anyone who has!

Then there was news this morning that the oil rig that burned and sank off Venice Louisiana has not been capped off and 1,000 barrels of oil an hour is pumping out into the Gulf. Automatic cap off procedures failed, now robot machinery is down there trying to cap it off, but no one knows how long that might take. The Mississippi Gulf Coast awaits an already 60 mile wide oil slick drifting our way. The seafood industry dreads its influence and beaches will certainly be impacted.

But after listening to the bad news, I go out and the sky is bright clear blue, it's windy and warm, and the back yard is filled with foxgloves, long slim green stems with blue flowers, and one lone long stemmed yellow flower was blooming right behind the swing. Small blue and yellow and pink flowers cover the yard. The rose bush is full of flowers. The sight is so beautiful; it makes me so happy. I won't get the yard mowed until after all the wildflowers have bloomed, they're just to pretty to cut down.

And last night there was enough moonlight to stir up the Chuck Will's Widow birds, who called to each other in the woods for hours. I admire their tenacity since these ground nesting birds have their habitat burned twice a year by the forest service, their habitat is shrinking, and feral cats stalk them. Still-- yet-- there they were calling to each other under the moonlight, a lonely but beautiful sound, and I slept in peace knowing they are there.

susil