"Nature will bear the closest inspection.
She invites us to lay our eye level with her smallest leaf,
and take an insect view of its plain."
Henry David Thoreau
After my Walmart experience I figured I'd do better to spend my time today outside with the birds and snakes and lizards. My original goal was to repot some plants. I did that, got covered in dirt, then moved on to unsightly weeds. I crawled around on the ground, reaching inside hedges pulling up bits and pieces of a vine that used to be called "wandering Jew" when it was sold as a houseplant. I don't know the religion of the stuff I was pulling up, but it did indeed wander.
Perhaps because of the early morning heat, I didn't see too many crawly things; blessedly I saw no snakes slither through bushes where I was working. Some people use outdoor activities as form of prayer. I just revelled in the silence, interupted only by the warnings signals of the mockingbirds who were concerned about my proximity to their nests. It was actually quite pleasant, hot, but pleasant.
I've been surprised to learn that my forays into the backyard have been like having my own National Geographic program. First there was the lizard/snake do-si-do, then a very cool dance routine performed by our resident Brown Thrasher. This lusty bird was pulling out all the stops. He sang his most romantic song and strutted like Mick Jagger. He fanned out his tail feathers and circled the woman of his dreams. But unless she was just playing hard to get, the object of this avian dancer's affection was not impressed. She was busy eating. Funny how mating rituals often involve food!
All this going on and I had a "bird's eye view" of the whole show. The whole display was taking place right outside my kitchen window. I was impressed, but the doves and jays paid the choreography no mind. Is there a lesson to be garnered from these green experiences? I'm not sure but I'm reminded of the lyrics of a song, "I hope you never lose your sense of wonder .... "*
Signing off with this suggestion ... "when you get the choice to sit it out or dance. I hope you dance..."
P.S. As I was writing this my Sweetie called me out to see what he found in the pool. Sitting on the vacuum hose, catching his breath and undoubtedly wondering how he was going to get himself out of the vast blue ocean that surrounded him was an itty bitty little mouse. Omigod! A cute little mouse. I know it's gross to think about swimming in mouse water, but Sweetie has poured so much chlorine in the pool in the past 24 hours I don't think it's going to be a problem. Who knew mice could be so cute?
* I Hope You Dance by Lee Ann Womack