Quiet. A thin blanket of fog. Not so thick that I’d get wet, but just enough to dampen the sound. It’s cool for August, in the 60s, and even without a breeze it feels pleasant.
Young crows call from all around the lake. One here. One there. It’s as if someone strung twinkle lights all around the lake and they are making a sound one at a time.
I see the young bluebirds and flickers, but it’s as if their sounds somehow don’t disturb the silence at all. It seems all the creatures are respecting this hush, this glorious - and rare - quiet.
I thought about trying to record the silence and quickly realized this is more of an energy, a feeling, and anyway, how does one record quiet? Instead, I let my mind rest in the solitude.
This is the thing I’ve been learning, and forgetting, and learning again this summer. That my mind can rest. That my mind NEEDS to rest. That every part of me is happier when my mind is willing to rest, if even for a few moments.
The wind picks up, gently, easing away the fog. The bird sounds grow louder as they too seem to sense the sunlight is about to find them.
The young birds chatter more than they sing, and this time of year there is less birdsong than there was a couple of months ago. I’m ever so grateful for the singers who keep singing after the spring mating season is done. Indigo buntings, cardinals, Carolina wrens, meadowlarks, and the occasional oriole seem to sing just for the pure pleasure of it.
I’m learning that my mind can rest in these sounds, too. With music and song, my mind seems to say ah, yes, I can float here the way the body floats on water. Even more so if I allow my body to rock, sway, and move gently to the music.
As the sun appears, the birds get busier. The flickers are busy finding whatever it is they find in the dirt. There are a half dozen or more of them, mostly youngsters, which is spectacularly typical for this time of year.
Can I use superlatives with the word typical? Because what’s typical is also quite grand and fills my heart with joy.
Bluebirds are now flitting back and forth from the grass to anywhere they can perch. Catching bugs is to a young bluebird like a video game is to a teenager - great fun, requiring some concentration, but with plenty of moments to chase each other around, too.
Near the shore, I notice two small birds fly in. Sandpipers! The first little peeps I’ve seen this year. I didn’t see many (did I see any?) this spring, so I hope the fall migration pattern makes up for it!
Out on the lake, two Forster’s terns have been vying for control of a buoy. There are a dozen other buoys, but they always want the same one. One youngster tries to land on a float in the water, but it’s clearly too slippery. It is fun to watch the youngsters learn.
I wonder sometimes if birds can rest their mind when they are floating on the air. I think I could, if I only had the wings to try.
Sunrise has moved back 45 minutes now, but my body is still asking for a turtle start to my mornings. I feel better when I give myself some loving attention and move slowly before getting out the door. As the mornings cool, the sunrise colors pull harder, and I really want to be out in the pinks of the early morning.
Whatever time I get out, I am so grateful for the walk. I am so grateful for this park, for the lake, for the access I have to all this beauty. I’m so grateful for a body that can do this.
As I’m writing, there are two juvenile male ruby-throated hummingbirds chasing each other around near my feeder. A chickadee decided to dart in and try to get a drink from the ant moat, and they promptly chased him all around the tree too.
Indeed, the typical is also wonderful. Every day I hope for more typical days like this.
What typical things in your world do you also find wonderful?
Karen, I believe that nothing is typical if we bring the depth of attention and awareness that William Blake could bring to a "grain of sand". Perhaps that is why you are filled with such joy when you observe the "typical"?
“To watch youngsters learn…
Bluebird elementary”?
Vying Forster’s Terns!
…
“Typical” grandness?
Meadowlark sings in sunshine.
Flicker wings wowza!!!