Rainbows & Hummingbirds

Some years ago, I discovered a perfect time to water my gardens. Perched high aloft on our deck, the forest shades my beds while the hose water prisms with sunlight. I no longer "have to go water the gardens", rather I "get to go make rainbows". This year, in one particular spot a young, female hummingbird joins me. She watches from the perimeter, seemingly to make sure I acknowledge her. Only after I have done so does she fly into the spray & dance in the shower. She alights on a young sumac tree, each morning where she flaps & preens. What a joy !!
I am reminded of a sentiment of Sarah ban Breathnach: "'Simple Abundance' has enabled me to encounter everyday epiphanies, find the Sacred in the ordinary, the [miraculous] in the mundane, fully enter into the sacrament of the present moment." The Hand of God at work is quite easy to see in the smallest of moments, when I simply pause to look with care.

Selective Memory

No longer welcome where once I watched, I sat on the corner of the pond up near my home. It was still quite dark & the bare, street light, once hidden in a tangle of trumpet-flower vines, glared overhead. I peered into the darkness across the shore, but the bench could not be seen. My best images of it are in my heart, but it is vaguely seen to the right of the swing in this shot.
Alone this morning, I could have easily slipped over undetected. I chose to stay where I was & lose myself in happy memories. For many years, & across all seasons, I sat on the bench praising, praying, visiting & of course, fishing with my son. It was a favorite place for me to watch God paint the morning sky, His colors mirrored on the water. My final memory there was shared, morning laughter over warm, blueberry muffins & coffee. What fondness this memory brought to me as my heart returned to those times!...It briefly crossed my mind that I had been chased away so much, this could not have possibly been my last time there...I chose -quite purposefully- however, to rewrite history & leave my final moment there, with a beloved friend...
How poignant & ironic that upon my return from work this evening the familiar railroad-ties were gone. How amazing that the Lord should draw me over for the last sunrise the bench would see.

Bubbles in the Mist

I awoke convinced that I had slept in & dawn's first light was already aglow. It was however, the harvest moon shrouded in fog. Do you remember "Moment of Glory" on March 20th? The sun's first rays lit up every droplet of water in the forest air. Early this morning, before the world of man was awake, the harvest moon shone brightly, amplified in it's radiance by the moisture in the air. I sat listening to the sounds of the forest. The insects had not yet begun their song & all was quiet. An owl hooted now & again, from various place. From the forest floor & aloft in the trees, I heard the occasional rustle of leaves & snapping of twigs. I wondered who was working or hunting. Beaver or fox? Raccoon or opossum? Perhaps the coyote had made his way down, or the deer were back. I heard a small tree or branch crack & fall from far off near the beaver's burrow.
When the moon was fully engulfed by the cloud, I brought out a ceramic tray of candles & wrote in my journal. The night was so silent that I could hear the sounds of an animal scratching himself. I heard nibbles upon ripened walnuts & periodic thuds as the nuts crashed to the ground. From far across the lake, I heard the rooster's call. Coming from the same place, it is a new voice this year, though I always hear one during the colder months of the year. The insect chorus began their predawn praise & when dawn's light finally began to turn the sky a faint blue, I headed to the lake.


Once on the dock, I sat patiently, watching as leaves & all manner of things slowly drifted past me into the cove. The mallards flew through piercing the silence with their chatter & rush of wings. A slight breeze caught water droplets releasing them from the foliage. The water tensions was such that the droplets momentarily held as large bubbles before bursting into widening ripples. I stalked the bubbles for ages, peering through the lens & praying to get some balanced shots of them poised atop the water. As I waited, I listened to the calls of the heron, the kingfisher & various woodpeckers. The mallards passed through again, before heading upstream. Upon later investigation, I found evidence that the beaver had, in fact been hard at work, shoring up his home for his winter rest.