Idle and blessed

What was it, I wondered, this seemingly unidentifiable flying creature? A giant butterfly? A moth? And then with a closer look, I realized in amazement that what I was watching gathering nectar from our flowering hostas was a hummingbird. I was awestruck. Really. In my forty years, I had never seen a hummingbird, it's vigorous flapping wings, it's long, thin beak seeking nourishment. Somehow that seems like a tragedy. 

School started for Thomas, Russell, and Elliot just over a week ago. And in the flurry of Thomas's and my challah baking and beeswax candle making (which was surprisingly easy), today's cooler temperatures and vibrant sunshine afforded the tinies the opportunity to take advantage of their day and throw an impromptu "tea" party. (It was milk. And no, I didn't realize that the milk had escaped from the fridge and was sitting on the front porch.) They were thrilled, and since they were not fighting and were enjoying themselves, so was I.

In order to further relish in the milder temperatures, tomorrow has been declared "field trip Friday." Our plan is to drop off our church's grocery offerings to a local food pantry; venture to the grocery store for some red carnations and probably some doughnuts; stop at one of my favorite places, the Riverside cemetery, and light one of the said candles, say some prayers, and leave our flowers; then journey to Blackhawk State Park for some exploring. "Are you happy?" Russell still likes to ask. Yes, Russell, happy and blessed. 

Peaceful weekend to you all.

The Summer Day

Mary Oliver

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?