A Quiet Moment

While working in the garden yesterday I was constantly distracted by our neighborhood hummingbird, the one I’ve been trying to get a decent picture of for over a year now. Of course, every time I had the camera he/she disappeared.

Today I decided to combine my meditation practice with picture taking. After about a half hour of quiet waiting he briefly showed up, too briefly to manage to get anything but a blurred image of him.

An hour later, he showed up again, and apparently reassured by my lack of motion, stuck around much longer, of course a minute in hummingbird time is probably equal to a day of our time. I’m not sure I know which shot I like best, but I found it interesting that he seemed to like this rather bland plant, not just the brilliant red one I first thought was attracting him:

Amazingly, I learned more about my little front yard in the hour I sat there attentively then I’d learned in the nearly two years I’ve lived here. First, there’s a crow’s nest right across the street with some very demanding young crowlings. There’s apparently a tit nest in the cedar tree in the front yard, judging from the busy adults that swoop in and out regularly. The brilliant yellow butterfly whose picture has also eluded me lo these many years, stops by, or almost stops by, irregularly.

It’s amazing what you can see and hear when you actually manage to stand still for just a little while.

3 thoughts on “A Quiet Moment

  1. I know what you mean. We have a small dog, Kodi, who is a total mutt but also thinks his job is to demand an explanation from anyone or anything that passes by. He constantly chews out teens walking bay. Today I listened to him whining and occasionally yipping while I was taking some nails out of some molding in my carport. “What’s up?” I called to him. No answer. He was waiting for the resident squirrel, who knows exactly how to jerk his chain, to come down from the tree. As if he would when Kodi could get him. He will, though, as soon as Kodi moves away. And sure enough, Kodi moved away, still staring at the tree, waiting for the squirrel to make his move. He won’t, though, much too clever. He’ll wait and tease Kodi again when he’s just far enough that he can dash up the tree and yell, “Yaa, yaa, yaa!” at him.

What do you think?