Tags: autumn day, bug portrait, color coordination in the natural world, cosmos, cosmos seeds, garden as restoration, insect, organic gardening, pretty insect, sunlight, tempo in the garden, victory garden, weather patterns of autumn
Ah, these mellow autumn days, with a fat golden sun being born after a cool grey morning. I felt myself coming down from the stress of the past weeks as I played in the garden today. I came in smiling, with my left hand full of seeds for next year’s cardinal climber vines and the fingers of my right hand splayed to hold two fat green tomatoes, my camera swinging from the strap around my neck.
F. gave me an approving look, and I answered him in words, “I feel like I’m becoming me again.” He smiled and nodded. He knows.
That’s what the garden does for me sometimes. Often, even. Restoration.
I felt like I’d been swallowing sunshine, nourished by the moist red earth, caressed by the wingtips of the chickadees as they continued to crisscross the blue sky overhead, flying to the feeder on the back porch, undisturbed by my meanderings down below.
And meander is the right word. I couldn’t bring myself to do any hard work yet, even though there is tons to do right now in the kitchen garden. Of course there is: I’ve only managed the bare minimum of activity there for the past two weeks.
Things are a real mess, if looked at from a certain angle. But if looked at from the right angle — oh, bliss!
Isn’t it amazing how this little insect’s eyes are a precise color match with the seed-in-formation he’s grasping? I have no knowledge of him, his purpose, whether he’s just resting, soaking up the sun or gathering pollen, drinking nectar, or even doing something that would shock me if I ever learned the details, perhaps. But I didn’t need knowledge to appreciate him this afternoon.
Facts would just have gotten in the way; don’t you think?
Instead I just soaked up his presence, standing on a patch of bark-chipped path that’s slowly giving way to weeds and encroaching grass, with the sun warm on my shoulders, the gentlest of breezes caressing my cheek, and a train whistle sounding in the distance.
A moment of pure joy.