I had a moment yesterday afternoon
that C.S. Lewis would have described as being surprised by joy. I was sitting
on my back step trying to enjoy the sunshine on my face, but the noise of my
neighbourhood was agitating me. Car doors slamming; drilling and hammering from
the renovation being done across the street; a yapping dog; loud adults talking
over their screaming children.
Instead of
grumbling and grumping and going back into the house, I closed my eyes and
slowed down my breath and searched for the sounds underneath the cacophony of
the street. Here I heard doves cooing, seagulls calling from high above the
earth, small birds chattering. Slowing and going deeper, the street sounds
retreated further away until I only heard the soughing of the wind through the
upper branches of the red pine trees that sit at the edge of my small backyard.
It
was then I opened my eyes, looked up, and there she was in the bright blue sky,
a daytime moon, halfway to being full, and a hawk soaring silent, hunting the
backyard bird feeders. And there I sat
with the moon and the hawk until the hawk soared away and the sounds of the
street once again made itself known.
***
Catharine
Steel-Ewart lives
in St. Catharines, Ontario, with her husband, her dog Sadie, and one very needy
cat named Stoker. Connecting with nature is as important to her as breathing,
and besides rambling Niagara’s wooded trails, she looks for the wilderness that
is present but often hidden within the city.
See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.
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