Sunday, August 14, 2016

A Whirr and a Blur

I was in a bit of a funk this afternoon. I sighed and sunk into the arm chair in the living room. The girls were gone; it was nearly 100 degrees outside; I had a week-long class starting at 8:30 in the morning, and the summer was nearly over, and I really missed my dog.

Just then a movement on the deck caught my eye. A hummingbird darted purposefully around the petunias in one of our hanging baskets. It's been a hot, dry summer, and we have several hanging and potted plants on our various porches and balconies. As such, watering them is a daily, sometimes twice a day, chore. And yet, this summer I have embraced this duty, patiently walking from the sink to the deck and back again 6 or 7 times until all the containers feel heavy and full. The plants are thriving.

I don't think I've ever seen a hummingbird around here, and yet there it was this afternoon, zooming and hovering in and out and all around, right outside the sliding glass doors. Some believe that the hummingbird is a symbol of renewal and joy, a reminder to live in the present and drink deeply of the nectar of the now.


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