Dawn Phelps
Columnist
The Rural Messenger is happy to introduce a new columnist from Kansas. Dawn Phelps is a wife, mother, and grandmother from Miltonvale, Kansas. She grew up on a farm in Tennessee but has lived in Kansas for many years.
In 2007 she began writing for hospice after her husband Ralph Thorn died of kidney cancer. In 2008 she added a weekly newspaper column “Just a Little Light” to her writing schedule. Each story includes a tidbit of light or a nugget of truth on a variety of topics.
Dawn has worked for many years as a registered nurse and social worker and continues to write for Meadowlark Hospice.
She has published two books—Tales from Tootleville and (Continued on page 12)
(PHELPS Continued from page 1) Finding Your Clover after a Loss as well as three booklets, and a series of mailers. She is currently writing a book about her life with her first husband entitled Country Girl, City Boy—Our Story Our Song.
It was a February morning, 2021, and I was driving to work. The pastures were dry and brown. Few cars were on the road. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. Some high whimsical, white “horsetail” clouds made a beautiful contrast with the blue sky.
On such a sunny day it was hard to believe that our area of Kansas was under a winter storm watch that would begin that night and potentially leave behind a few inches of snow. But I put that thought aside and decided to enjoy the moment as I drove to work.
I thought how blessed I was to still have a job. I also thought about a lady on the Topeka news the previous evening and how the announcer told about a food giveaway at a parking lot . The announcer said they had given away bacon for the first time ever that day.
And the lady being interviewed had been very happy to get the bacon and stated, “It’s the first meat I’ve had in months.” The lady’s remarks on the news brought tears to my eyes, and my husband Tom and I talked about how blessed we were to have more than enough food.
Then Tom and I reminisced about our childhood years. I told Tom that our gardens were crucial for our family’s survival with our large family of seven kids. Like the lady on the Topeka news, as children, we had little meat, but we were never hungry, and we were blessed and healthy.
As I drove, I listened to music of “the Masters” on the radio—Beethoven, Liszt, and Vivaldi—a mandolin concerto in C and beautiful violin music. Then something moving high in the sky on the south side of the highway caught my eye.
What a sight to see thousands of black birds flying in mass, majestically twisting, turning, swirling, and swooping in synchrony! Their aerial show was a bonus that morning as I drove to work. As a child I remember seeing such flocks, and I was fascinated with how they seemed to know what they were supposed to do, thousands of birds flying inches apart, twisting and turning in synch.
I had recently heard the word murmuration that described what I was watching. The word refers to an enormous flock of birds, either on the ground or in the air. While on the ground the birds seem to be murmuring in low, continuous utterances—probably where the word murmuration came from. But grumbling sounds on the ground were a stark contrast to the joyous air performances I watched that day—they seemed to be celebrating!
Scientists have studied the flocks as they perform in the air. They have observed them, photographed, videotaped them, and are now using computers to try to figure out how the thousands of birds gracefully fly only inches apart without bumping into one another.
How do they know when to turn, how to reverse their course, or fly up or down? Have they mastered the art of choreography or are they just flying for the fun of it?
I slowed my car as I watched the flock of birds disappear from my sight. Even after I could no longer see them, the memory of their dance remained. As I drove the last few miles to work, I thought about how I used to drive to visit clients as a part of my previous jobs.
And I still recalled the sense of awe that I felt on some of those days—when springtime was bursting out all over, when the sun was shining and the sky was blue, when there were hints of color in the trees in the fall, when flocks of geese honked their way south, or when there was a glorious sunset!
But I rarely saw black birds putting on a show like that February morning—a morning that reminded me I was so blessed. I had nothing to murmur about! I was not hungry like many. I could hear the music of the masters. I had eyesight to see the beautiful blue sky and the birds’ aerial performance, and I had witnessed a murmuration which seemed more like a celebration!
Even if a winter storm should come that night, I knew life would go on. After all, storms and sunny days are both a part of life. Maybe my lesson was to look, listen, and enjoy every beautiful moment that presents itself.
Recently, about a week ago, I was again blessed to witness a massive flock of black birds majestically flying in synch! It was the longest, widest murmuration I had ever seen!
Then I remembered that special morning in 2021. This time the flock seemed to be headed on a southwesterly route. Since it was so early in the month, I wondered if we might be witnessing a migratory flight, but I will never know for sure. Anyway, it was a captivating moment!
So, keep your eyes open for those special “murmuration moments,” Pause and soak them in. Someday those moments may become your special memories!
