This is the first year we've had house finch move into the neighborhood.
He's got a lovely lady and they've got a cutie of a babe who calls and begs all day.
I love them.
Bath Time
When I started sit spotting I almost always sat in the woods because I wanted to see coyotes and Hawks, foxes, deer and raccoons. I was completely entranced at the thought of the special lives I could meet in the woods.
Now, I sit mostly in our garden or yard which ever you prefer to call it. And though I do still love seeing coyotes and other more 'exciting' mammals, the truth is that I love this little titmouse above them all.
Every evening just at dusk this male makes his way to this bird bath (and we have more than our share of them). He hops right in and plays in the water. He doesn't just bathe. He sticks his beak in and saunters around the edge splashing his wings in the most delightful and playful way. Joy exudes from his almost weightless body. His joy for this moment draws me in every single night.
How can I be anything more than happy when a bath in an old bowl brings this little titmouse unending delight?
It really is the simple things, isn't it?
I imagine he is raising babies in this season of his life. This brief check out from his responsibilities seems like it is probably the happiest moment of his day. His babies are fed and tired from flitting around the big world all day avoiding everything that wants to eat them. Every night upon his arrival I picture him waiting impatiently for the sun to reach just the right place in the sky when he can 'Zhweeh' his mate farewell and take his short sabbatical in the bird bath. His 5 minutes of satisfying joy.
This.
This is connection.
Reflection
Sometimes a photo says it all.
Iris
Irises are my favorite of all flowers. A beautiful thing about irises is you always know when you are looking at one and yet they are all different and express themselves in their own unique way. What if humans learned to do that truly? To be beautiful? To love themselves and be free to bloom with all the markings, colors, and beauty possible? Would we still question and hurt one another with judgements and stories for being our unique selves? Would we fight for our place in the garden or just be?
