Amy in the Garden

The birds have been much quieter in the mornings the past few days — I suspect because of the heat. The insects are just as vocal in the evenings, and I suspect for the same reason. I was awakened at 4 a.m. today by MacKenzie the Perpetual, delighted to start the day with me in the pitch black. I came downstairs with her to open the windows and let the dark breeze inside.

We rested together, listening. Some unfortunate creature lost its life in that dark and we heard the last few moments — Mac lifted her head and perked her ears up, but did not move from my side. I was glad she stayed with me. I didn’t feel badly hearing the sound, maybe because it sounded like Nature and what is supposed to go on. I’m sure that sound occurs every night within earshot of my open window. I only happened to hear it this morning because I indulged my dog and came downstairs.

I have been absent from my home life for over a week now, most egregiously for the last three days. I have been inside in the office for all of the daylight hours for each of these days, and I have not heard or been aware of the life all around me. I hate that. MacKenzie reminded me that there is a Life to be appreciated around the clock, and we started early today. Something found food this morning — an owl? a coyote? — something left this Earth, and then the birds woke up.

Maybe I will cut some flowers this morning and bring them in to the office with me. The black-eyed susans are still fresh and upright, not raggedy like the echinacea. I will imagine bumblebees on them, imagine the sound and the sight of them bumping over the flower’s dark center, and bring a little of my preferred Life inside with me today.

WORDS FROM OTHERS

“A house is never still in darkness to those who listen intently; there is a whispering in distant chambers, an unearthly hand presses the snib of the window, the latch rises.”

— J.M. Barrie, “Little Minister”