In our hermitage wanderings, camera and I had noticed flitting about wood and field an insect that resembled a giant mosquito.
It didn’t often alight upon an object long enough for close observation and, if we were to be honest, its unfortunate resemblance to the blood-sucking species did not make us so anxious to pursue it.
However, this dear insect never demonstrated the least bit of aggression toward us nor even the slightest interest in my bodily fluids. Hence, when we saw one of its kind early on that dewy morning, we asked if we might receive its image.
And we were not disappointed…
Allow me to introduce you to the crane fly, his very long legs keeping his slender body suspended above a dewdrop. He is winged but, extended like the wings of an airplane, his flight apparatus are barely visible in this image.
His role in life? To mate, of course.
To carry on life, as one more tiny co-creator with the Divine, obediently making more and more life to proclaim God’s superabundant gift…
Every time I’ve gone to the hermitage in the spring, I’ve been greeted by sprays of yellow buttercups dancing in the fields.
I cannot resist receiving new images of them every May, though they look no different than they did the year before, as they toss their heads back gaily in the breeze.
Sitting in a meadow with them on a sunny day with nothing to do but gaze is perhaps one of the greatest indulgences of the soul.
This year, however, the best became even better as God treated my soul to joy beyond its delight.
Camera and I went out early one morning while dew still sparkled on the grass. He wore his zoom lens and I my pajamas and we did not care if the world saw us or we came back soggy.
For in those precious moments, we received His light – the light of a rising sun creating a fresh new day from the dark night sky. After yesterday’s hot and dry, a fresh new day alive with green and yellow and wet.
As noted before, the birds surrounding the hermitage are largely rather shy. Even the blue jays.
During my recent visit, hoping to catch an afternoon breeze, I sat outside on the porch. Camera rested at my side.
We carried no expectations but simply sat in silent stillness, watching.
This is one of the beauties of the hermitage experience – the stillness.
Yet, it seems odd to call it “stillness” because the surrounding creation is continually in motion – fluttering, plopping, buzzing, soaring – always actively breathing life in each moment.
But in so doing, it draws me into the moment of its living and I am aware.
I begin to taste what life is – what it is we lost, having stepped out of Eden so long ago.
In front of the hermitage is a tree. As I sit in stillness, a blue jay and one of its young flies into its branches, apparently not noticing me.
Softly requesting permission, camera and I receive their image.
And now we share it with you…
To our Creator be glory, now and always.
Perhaps it is time for another butterfly…
When is it not time for a butterfly? 🙂
I do not know what type this little fellow is. As you can see, he (or she) is quite small, barely larger than the blade of grass on which he perched.
He holds his wings proudly, yet humbly, allowing the light to shine through them. Without the light, he would be nothing. In the light, divine Beauty is revealed.
All glory to the One who made us.
(P.S. Thanks to all who responded to my survey. I will continue to maintain this as a separate blog. And not concern myself with page views. Look when you wish. Or not.)
Every time I visit this small wetlands near the hermitage, I hear little plopping sounds as I approach.
When camera and I come into focus, all that there is for us to see are fading concentric circles on the water’s surface where some little creature leapt in.
There goes another – and we missed him. There is never any warning as to who is going to jump, when or from which direction. Just the little plopping sound to signal that yet another has sought watery refuge.
I have often asked these unseen creatures if we might receive their images, assuring them that we mean them no harm. But the answer is always the same:
So, of course, we respect their shyness, recognizing that each creature has been given unique instincts in order to survive. For some, this translates into remaining hidden from view.
And so we honor here all of the little lives created by God that we may never see – each playing a part in its ecosystem, each giving Him glory by living as it ought.
Be well, my little ones, and stay safe…
Sometimes sky is so wonderful…
We just can’t resist it, camera and I.
Though there every day, whether at hermitage or not, it is never the same twice, its contours, light and color ever-changing in Divine dance.
(Why would anyone ever watch television when they can watch the sky?)