I greeted my daughter off the bus from the seat of the child’s bench in my front garden. “You’re crazy,” she told me, laughing as she smiled at me on her way through the door. My camera in one hand, my back rested against the frayed slats of the bench, I was waiting for the elusive hummingbird that graces my garden only when the camera is safely inside my house.
Naturally, the hummingbird did not reappear for me, now that I was sitting in wait with the camera poised to capture. Instead, I took in the magic willing to be seen. Life bloomed all around me. Birds sang joy from the canopy of Nature’s ceiling, while Lily of the Valley spread its heady perfume across her rainbowed carpets.
The rhythm of life moved around me while I sat in wait. Watching. Smelling. Listening. Being.
Until the mosquitos got the better of me. Then I took the camera and walked. Instead of the hummingbird, I captured two squirrels in the act of love…or haste.
Germination, which had led to growth a few weeks ago, was now blossoming into the beginnings of offspring, and for a few moments I took notice.
Perhaps tomorrow I’ll meet the hummingbird through the filter of the lens. For now, a toad will suffice.