“Why if I picked a day to fly – oh, this would be it” ~ Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame
this may not be a direct quote, but on a day like today, these are the words in my head.
‘if I could pick a day to fly .. ‘
this, this may very well be it.
Clear blue skies, bright beautiful sunshine, wonderful, playful rustling breeze. For a late summer day (yes, although I have heard talk of fall, it is still summer here) so for a late summer day, this one feels about perfect.
And so today, as you might guess, you will find me gratefully once again stealing solace from nature in my garden.
There has been a bit of destruction as of late. My husband somehow gently managed to convince me that possibly it was time to open up the west side garden area a bit. Gardens once dotted with beautifully flowering shrubs, now mostly shrouded by their large over achieving giant branches. Each trying to outshine the other in their displays of beauty. The crab apple towering at least 20 feet in height, it’s branches dance along the roof line. The always lovely Rose of Sharon probably 15 ft high now, draws the hummingbirds close. The delicate weigela and wonderfully fragrant mock orange grown together in unison, and the always show stopping forsythia centre stage in all his glory each now competing for my affections.
Underneath these larger fellows there is a vast array of blooming beauties. Some planted many years before us, some planted by us and some scattered by winds and wildlife. Many now are beginning to fade away due to over crowding, I suppose and admittedly increasing shade. (or so he has now convinced me!)
A bit reluctantly I have agreed … I guess … it is probably time for a good trimming.
And so, my husband begins with ladders and saws, snippers and various other cutting things. Large branches come crashing down. With a bit of instruction from me on what can go, and what must stay and where to be most careful. I try hard not to feel every cut and bruise.
The next day when I return from work, I see wide open spaces, hacked off branches and broken stems. What have we done?
In the forsythia a delicate nest lay hidden among the branches now scattering the lawn, and although I know it is long since emptied, I make apologies to the cardinals who sheltered here. I worry how they’ll feel when they return later to unfamiliar sights.
I cringe at the now blunt branches, stunted, stripped, shortened. I struggle .. is this kindness and nurturing or cruel and controlling?
As always, I take my troubles to the peaceful stillness of the pond.
Even now, in early September we still have tadpoles. They are a marvel, they really are. I watch one squiggle along and as it passes, I see below a funny little guy floating lazily on a leaf. He appears to be in transition, his large round head now starting to become a more toad-like body. He also sports both sets of legs, yet still he has his tail. He is changing, just slowly.
I think about this,
to him the world now is opening to possibility, his perspective will change, beyond the still waters.
Just then a sharp shinned hawk screeches across the sky, and draws me out of thought and into sunshine once again. I have followed along trying to catch a glimpse of him as he lands. One of his favourite landing spots happens to be a very tall tree on the west side.
So, here I find myself, in ‘the aftermath’ – taking very mindful steps – to changes, to possibilities, to a change of perspective, beyond the destruction.
The branches have now mostly been cleared away. The lawn and gardens are scattered with beautiful little red crap apples decorating each spot they land. The squirrels will think it’s Christmas! There is now so much sun shining brightly covering everything in beautiful shimmering light. One of the cardinals now lands near by, surveying renovations.
When I look down, I spot in the tangles, a piece of purple ribbon, which brings to me .. my smile. Perhaps the birds have been celebrating!
When I sit down to do a bit of writing, the breeze dances through, teasing for my attention, littering my page with ‘she loves me, she loves me not’ petals, then blowing my page away.
Forcing me to take chase ..
perhaps, it is the perfect time
to embrace,
to be open,
to possibilities,
to perspective,
to beauty
“why if I could pick a day to fly – oh, this would be it” ♥