The answer was rocking chair.

Some of my warmest childhood memories live in one well-worn rocking chair by the window—my mother quietly working the Saturday New York Times crossword, my father “checking for light leaks” behind closed eyelids, my brothers laughing over comic books, and me with a cat in my lap, lost in a book.

If you’d like to spend a few quiet minutes with us, the newest Open the Door audio story is now available.

🎙️ Listen free at:
https://docellen.substack.com

#OpenTheDoor #Storytelling #FamilyMemories #RockingChair #Crossword #NewYorkTimes #SundayStory

Even though nesting season is over, this Great Egret is still wearing the last of its elegant breeding plumes. They trail almost to the branch beneath its feet, and the reddish tint isn’t part of the feathers at all—it’s North Carolina’s red clay, picked up while moving through the marshes and shorelines.

If you’re wondering where the other leg went, don’t worry. Long-legged birds like egrets often rest on one leg, with the other tucked safely into their feathers. Look closely and you can even see the tucked foot resting high against the bird’s body.

Nature has a wonderful way of leaving little clues for anyone willing to slow down and look. Have you ever noticed an egret standing on just one leg?

P Cat is the seventh story in the continuing Open the Door audio series.

Sometimes the smallest family members have the biggest opinions about who really owns the house. This morning’s story is about one determined cat… and one bathtub.

I hope you’ll come listen.

🎙️ Open the Door on Substack.

https://docellen.substack.com/p/p-cat?r=ac94d

It’s easy to think Mom Osprey is stretching.

She isn’t.

On a blistering hot summer day, Mom Osprey becomes a living umbrella. By spreading her wings, she shades the chicks—or eggs—beneath her from the direct sun.

She’s panting because she’s hot, too.Dad osprey sometimes takes over this job, but Mom is usually the one standing guard because she’s simply the larger bird.

Many of you know me through my photography. Some know me from my years as a veterinarian. Some simply know me as the woman who wanders around Jordan Lake talking about birds, clouds, droughts, wildflowers, and whatever else catches her curiosity.

Over the past few weeks I’ve quietly begun a new project called Open the Door.

Every Sunday I share a short audio story inspired by nature, childhood, and the people and experiences that have shaped my life. Each story is free to listen to and includes a written transcript.

This week’s story is “In Momma’s Hands”.

If you’d like to join me, you can visit:

docellen.substack.com

I’d be delighted to have you come along. After all, Nature’s door is open — come right on in.

I looked at the bald eagle’s talons, still carrying the mud from wherever she’d been before she landed. It made me think about us humans and our old saying about having feet of clay. Here I was, watching a bald eagle with feet of mud… but it wasn’t her feet I envied.

It was her wings.