When the sun angles low in the late-spring sky, and a hummingbird is resting on a tangerine tree branch, after bathing in the backyard fountain…
We’re nearing the end of National Poetry Month; and while this isn’t a poem in the strictest sense, it’s the joyful stuff of psalms.
This beautiful creature was perched on a withered agave stem yesterday, watching over the harbor seals that hauled out on Treasure Island.
It’s a well-worn but apt cliche: hummingbirds are poetry in motion. But whole stanzas could also be written about the magic spells they weave, even in repose. Those iridescent feathers, for instance, catching fire in the sunshine…! No surprise, they’re the subject of the poem I’ve got in my pocketses for “Poem in your Pocket Day.”
Hummingbird, by Harry Kemp
The sunlight speaks. And it’s voice is a bird:
It glitters half-guessed half seen half-heard
Above the flower bed. Over the lawn …
A flashing dip and it is gone.
And all it lends to the eye is this —
A sunbeam giving the air a kiss.
It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement; the greatest source of visual beauty; the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living.” —David Attenborough
Little wings flutter
Morning starts with eyes smiling
Birdbath needs filling. ~Ormond
I had my doubts, but our burbling fountain is already attracting hummingbirds. Goldfinches, too! I snapped these photos through our backyard slider, so as not to interrupt their private bath. Can you spot the bird behind the lemon tree leaves, patiently waiting her turn?
Red’s not my favorite color, but our backyard fountain draws quite a crowd. And lucky me, I have a front-row seat to sweet moments like these, all day long.
As with haiku poetry, simple pleasures really are the best.
Gray whales are special tourists, along the California coast. Here in Orange County, they are sometimes seen in shallow waters, scooping crustaceans and other delectables from the sea floor. They also rely on the Dana Point headlands as a landmark during their annual migration—a circular loop from their summer feeding grounds in the Bering Sea to the lagoons in Baja, Mexico, where they give birth before returning to Alaska the following spring. At 12,000 miles, it’s the most longest (and most impressive) mass migration of any marine mammal. Here’s what it looks like, courtesy of Dana Wharf:
Of course, not everyone’s lucky enough to watch this happening in real-time…but we hit the jackpot today! These whale-watching boats were our tip-off. They had circled the wagons, so to speak, at one end of Aliso Park Creek Beach.
Fishing boats raced to the spot where they lingered. Yachts, too, like this so-called “Early Bird.”
So tempting, to run to the water’s edge, where I could snap a few close-up photos! But my fractured foot’s still healing, so I watched them from a higher vantage point, near the lifeguard stand.
Even from that distance, I had a clear view of a young calf with its mother, breaching and spouting as they made their way north.
Did I wish, for a brief moment, that I was watching from the deck of the Dana Pride?
Boy howdy! I wished also that I was carrying a high-tech camera, with a more powerful zoom. But those were fleeting thoughts, quickly replaced by another: I was bearing witness to one of the coolest phenomena on earth!
I chose then to lower my camera, breath deep the salty air, and listen to the ocean. Let this sink in, it seemed to say, Be still, in this moment.
Like these prayer flags–seemingly at the mercy of the elements–we will lift our faces toward the sun, humble but fervent in expressing our best hopes, prayers, and dreams for each other and the world.
Peace, peace, peace.
This is the International Space Station, as seen in the night sky above Orange County, California.
This, too, is the magic of social media: If I hadn’t seen this Instagram post, cross-linked to my neighborhood Facebook group, I wouldn’t have known what to look for, where or when.
It was infinitely cool to watch its trajectory through space–no high-powered telescope necessary–and to realize I wasn’t the only one looking skyward on a clear, starry night.
For a list of ISS flyovers in your neighborhood, visit NASA’s Spot the Station website. Oh sure, given a quick Google search, you can call up crystal-clear images and powerful videos. But once you see it with your own eyes, you’ll remember it always!
A well-tended garden is the sign of a happy heart. That’s what I think, anyway.
It welcomes visitors of all kinds,
and swings wide the gate to our most delicious memories. Juicy secrets, too.
It heralds Spring’s arrival, and the turn of every season.
It’s where the seeds of our wildest dream take root, burrowing deep before they flower.
My own garden isn’t tightly curated, as you might guess. It’s a quasi-random blend of colors and textures–a joyful noise, like this blog, where order and chaos co-exist.
It’s at once a playground and a sanctuary–
home, at the intersection of Elegant,
Everyday,
and Every-bit-as-beautiful.
It makes my heart sing, when you drop by for a virtual visit! If it shows signs of neglect sometimes, it’s not because I’ve forgotten it–or you.
We’re sometimes called to tend a different garden for a while–it’s the rhythm of life, isn’t it? In this case, I was temporarily sidelined by an injury. I can’t wait to feel the grass underneath my feet again! But even from this distance, I can watch the hummingbirds feed their hatchlings. And as the milkweed sprouts new leaves, I can recreate, in my mind’s eye, the life cycle of the Monarch butterfly, from caterpillar to chrysalis.
I wanted to plant bulbs and flowers on Easter weekend, and to gather the first rosebuds of the season.
“Not yet,” my doctor said. So I’m resurrecting my blog instead. Moving ever forward, in joy and without judgment …It’s the gardener’s way.
So tell me: how does your garden grow?
“Top of the morning to ye, Irish blood or no!”
Here’s to finding that pot o’ gold at the end of your rainbow….and if you’re lucky, a bit o’ shenanigans, too.
#BeLikeFreckles
(Thanks, Donna, for giving our pinniped pal this dash of Irish charm.)
Image credit: IMBd
Look what’s making its grand debut in theaters today! I’m really excited to see it, and I wish it great success.
Oh sure, I’ve heard some grumblings…I suspect we all have. It happens, whenever a storybook classic gets a makeover.
Time and again, we’ve pulled tattered copies from our bookshelves. We settle into our easy chairs, sink deep into the familiar. We pore over the dog-eared pages and get excited all over again, when at last we meet up with our favorite characters. It’s what literary critics call transcendence. We see, mirrored in the original, a more luminous version of ourselves. A magnification of our own world views, and a projection of our personal experiences. No wonder, this resistance.
Hardcover first edition of “A Wrinkle in Time,” designed by Ellen Raskin.
It’s an act of courage, to reach beyond the familiar and embrace the new. But there’s an important payoff, worth considering: Great stories are expansive–they stretch us, and keep us from getting brittle. Add or subtract glitter, they don’t lose their value. In fact, their intrinsic beauty is further enhanced by these retellings; in large part, because they attract new readers into the fold. We then gather ’round the proverbial campfire, add new chapters to our own stories. And that’s some powerful magic, right there.