I woke up at 3 AM and had a devil of a time getting back to sleep, only to awaken early this morning shortly after I finally fell back asleep. So I’m a little tired, short-fused, and grumpy today.
Still, I can’t help
Musing About Life and Change
Yesterday I was delighted to see a wood duck family in the pond again. They are still there today and seem to be very content swimming here and there and perching on the log at the edge of the pond. Look closely at the photo above and you can see the tail of one of the ducklings between the upper branch and the lower branch of the log.
It is interesting to see how the ducklings fledge and grow. Their tail feathers look almost like those of an adult duck but their heads and backs are still fuzzy like ducklings. And they are almost as big now as their mother.
Two weeks ago when we had heavy rains part of a tree fell into the pond. When I noticed it the next morning I thought, the good news is that the tree that fell is on Plymouth parkland, not our property so we won’t need to pay to remove it from the pond. (Over our years here we have had two trees fall in the pond and had both removed by our trusty tree trimmer/removal service.) The bad news is that the tree that fell is on parkland so the city of Plymouth will probably just leave it there. That’s what they did with the basswood tree that fell in the somewhat wild park area beside our yard a year ago.
Initially the fallen tree drew my eyes every time I looked out the window and I was disturbed by the changes wrought in the pond that I love. As the leaves begin to wilt and yellow I begin to see possibilities instead of problems with this downed tree. Yesterday, watching the wood duck family swim around the pond I realized that this fallen tree may be of benefit to them. It may provide shelter from predators and a sense of safety for them.
I’m not any kind of expert about duck behavior but as I observe the wood ducks I wonder if the fallen tree makes any difference to them.
New Possibilities
And I ponder my reactions to change. First I was sad for the change to the landscape and really wanted that fallen tree out of the pond since it was right smack dab in the middle of areas that I often photograph. But as time goes by I let go of any particular way that I think it should be and see new possibilities in the change that I didn’t see initially.
“Last forever!’ Who hasn’t prayed that prayer? You were lucky to get it in the first place. The present is a freely given canvas. That it is constantly being ripped apart and washed downstream goes without saying.”― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
I’m thinking that this sadness and gradual acceptance is probably a natural response to change. Look at the way that we have changed our behaviors because of COVID-19. While I might long for it to be the way it was before, there is no going back or hitting an undo button. So the trick is envisioning how we want to go forward.
Slowing Down Helps me Pay Attention
One of the things that has intrigued me during this stay-at-home time is that I haven’t missed going shopping for clothes or wandering in stores. I haven’t missed acquiring more stuff. In fact, just the opposite, the less I acquire, the better. Other than food to eat and books to read, most of which I borrow as e-books from the library, I have no desire to buy anything.
The more time I spend at home the more I notice whether activities that I am doing actually enhance my life or detract from my life. Things like social media (I am only on Instagram) are losing their shine. Scrolling through the photographs on my Instagram feed rarely brings me joy. It’s not a real form of connection. What would happen, I wondered, if instead of spending time on Instagram, I call someone I love and connect with them? It’s been astonishing to me to realize that I DO like to talk on the telephone when I do so with the clear intention of connecting with loved ones. And I’m spending less time on Instagram.
I had been playing solitaire on my Kindle and noticed that when I became bored with reading I would pull up my Solitaire game more and more often. Then finally I noticed that playing Solitaire really didn’t bring me any real satisfaction. It was a way to feed the hungry ghost side of me, not the real soul and spirit of me. Now, when I think about pulling up a Solitaire game, I go for a walk or sit down to paint. Both activities are life enhancing for me.
Yesterday’s watercolor adventure using wax to resist paint in some areas
Maybe you would find musing about life and change helpful for you today?
A Beloved Book to Share Today
I have recently been re-reading parts of Annie Dillard’s, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Written in 1974, this book is a lyrical masterpiece. Maria Popova, author of the Brain Pickings Blog, describes it this way:
… one of those rare treasures best described as secular scripture, partway between Thoreau and Mary Oliver. In this gift of a book, Dillard explores seeing as an act of love (“The lover can see, and the knowledgeable,” she writes in one of her bestirring asides), but also as a monumental task for which we are chronically and profoundly underequipped (“My eyes account for less than one percent of the weight of my head,” she observes with sweet resignation; “I’m bony and dense; I see what I expect.”).
— Maria Popova, Brain Pickings Post titled “Annie Dillard on How to Live with Mystery…“
It’s a slow read, but I love the way she uses language and the way that she sees as I aspire to see…
The secret of seeing is, then, the pearl of great price. If I thought he could teach me to find it and keep it forever I would stagger barefoot across a hundred deserts after any lunatic at all. But although the pearl may be found, it may not be sought. The literature of illumination reveals this above all: although it comes to those who wait for it, it is always, even to the most practiced and adept, a gift and a total surprise… I cannot cause light; the most I can do is try to put myself in the path of its beam. It is possible, in deep space, to sail on solar wind. Light, be it particle or wave, has force: you rig a giant sail and go. The secret of seeing is to sail on solar wind. Hone and spread your spirit till you yourself are a sail, whetted, translucent, broadside to the merest puff.
— Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
May you walk in beauty.
Painting with some flower photo additions
Watercolor painting from last weekend
With added sunset from photograph
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