I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Yea, on the glancing wing of eager birds, the softly pattering feet of furred and gentle beasts. I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Not borne on the morning's wings of majesty, but I have set My feet amidst the delicate and bladed wheat. I come in the little things, Saith the Lord.
I attended a friend's mother's funeral this week. I had visited Mary several times over the past few months while she was in an Assisted Care facility and am very sad to lose our budding friendship. November is when I, too, lost my mother 20 years ago.
November is a month of transition in nature--when the living is juxtaposed with the dying.
The "little things" can quite escape you when your mind is occupied elsewhere. Our first sunshine this week, however, beckoned me to bundle up and go outside. Camera in hand, Gabriel and I went to capture the little things.....like fallen autumn leaves trapped amongst the colorful berries. . . .
I counted well over a dozen Swallowtail caterpillars on our parsley last week. The next day all that was left were stems. I didn't mind because I'd rather have butterflies than parsley. Life is like that. Sometimes you have to sacrifice something you love for something you love even more.
This morning I came into the living room to find a little butterfly that looked much like this one fluttering at my window. I wondered why it wanted to get inside. As I drew closer I saw that it was trapped in a spider's web! I figured the spider wouldn't need to wait long for a breakfast of fly or some other pesky bug, so I opened the window and set the butterfly free.
What beautiful thing in your life needs to be set free today so it can grace the lives of others as well as yours?
….even the insects in my path are not loafers, but have their special errands.
~Henry David Thoreau
I spent some time watering my potted plants in the front yard this morning because we are in a dry spell. There were others very busy in my garden this morning, too, as you can see. These Bumblebees on the Spirea. . . .
This tiny, delicate flower appeared in the gravel in the front garden walkway, along with Lambs Ear that decided to jump from their bed. I have no idea what it is called, but I am in love with it. I'm so glad I noticed it and photographed it the day I first saw it because now the flowers are spent and gone.
Nobody sees a flower - really - it is so small it takes time - we haven't time - and to see takes time like to have a friend takes time.