May 19, 2006
the preponderance of the small
There is the mustard seed and that straw that broke the camel's back. Small things can have great strength and moment. I walked out into the yard this morning and nearly tread on a small surprise; a brilliant yellow primrose blooming in the cement. As I sit at my table writing, a chirping commotion makes me look up. The Robin family has congregated on the next door neighbor's window ledge--Mom, Dad and the two kids begging for snacks. Out front, a few feet above the towering wands of grass I have refused to mow, hangs the snug sock of the Bush Tits' nest, a speckled wattle and daub affair no bigger than a size 10. It surprised me one day, standing over the white iris, scissor in hand. The ceanothus branch shuddered and the nest appeared at eye level, magically constructed while I blinked.
Loitering with a hose in hand, the hummingbird zooms close for a shower. Looking up at a familiar sound I see the flycatcher has returned for another summer. Perched on the plum branch he sits with his mouth agape. Two more of his kind appear and join him, their mouths agape too. Then the puzzle is solved. A fourth flycatcher swoops in with a mouthful of insects to feed the famished brood. I water my shoes in wonder.
White clouds drift in a turqoise sky. Sunlight illuminates an ant. The golden boss of a scarlet rose gleams within a fading bouquet. Splashes from the bathing Towhee. Insignificant moments that I soon forget. But these small pleasures of my garden are mighty in their power to soothe and soften the hard impress of life's great and heavy acts.
