I’m not sure why, because there’s not any water in my pond right now, but the garden was full of little dragonflies today, which made me extraordinarily happy.
The temps are up again, nearly ninety degrees, so hot it dried the sheets on the line in about half an hour, but the humidity is low with these Santa Ana winds. It’s way more pleasant than the heat/humidity wave we experienced a few weeks ago, and the nights are blissfully cool.
“I heard the wind whisper and the earth sigh, it made my soul smile as I walked by.” Michelle Schaper
I’m involved in a search, rescue, and release mission because a baby lizard somehow sneaked in the house.
Right now he’s lying low, evading my efforts to liberate him, lurking behind the sofa.
I’ve tried everything; this isn’t the first time it’s happened, but so far I’m not successful in this rescue and release.
And that means neither is that lizard because there’s nothing for him to eat here – no flies, worms, caterpillars, nada.
I’m only trying to help.
I cleaned behind the sofa and now there’s no dust, either.
WHERE ARE YOU, LIZARD?
A brief Google search let me know that lizards symbolize resurrection, rebirth, and regeneration. In Egyptian hieroglyphics, the symbol of the lizard was representative of plentiful abundance. A lizard in one’s house is often seen to represent an old friend or acquaintance, reminding you of their spirit.
The next morning…still no sign of this lizard, but I’m still looking. I haven’t given up yet.
Just after noon, I almost stepped on this little lizard as he was well camouflaged on a floral rug, but he made a wise choice to reveal his location. I grabbed a plastic container, pushed him in, and ran outside to set him free.
Update to my dining room cricket dilemma…I was in the bathroom last night, brushing my teeth, when I looked down and witnessed the offensively loud chirping cricket hop onto the rug right near my feet.
This was quite a distance for a cricket to travel, but without really thinking about that (and I should have), I reached down, scooped him up with a page hastily torn out of a book, and dropped him in the toilet.
As the water was swirling and he “swam” away, I instantly thought that I had missed a valuable opportunity to have a chat with another species.
Why in the world did s/he visit me like that? Was it random or was there a message I was meant to hear?
I should have paused and taken a moment to put myself in that little cricket’s shoes (so to speak) and I now wonder what that action attempted to communicate or convey.
Instead, I lost a potential new friend and even more importantly, I acted in haste and without concern for his/her welfare.
Anyway, I’m really, REALLY sorry. Je regrette mes actions.
On the other hand, that was apparently the source of the late night chirps…
My kitchen window is an ever-changing movie screen.
Throughout the years, it’s been the best location to view all kinds of memorable events; observing the original Angel Boy in his sandbox, throwing balls for his Border Collie, skating with his friends on the half pipe while they ate the cookies and drank the smoothies I’d bring out to them, to the fresher 2.0 versions enjoying mango-black cherry ice cream cones and playing baseball in the garden or chasing butterflies, to birds and bunnies and coyotes and bobcats, (never forgetting the rats).
Today I saw a beautiful Red Shouldered Hawk perched on a low branch in the ash tree surveying the lawn for a late lunch.
Now I know where the feathery treasures come from. I’ve been finding them where I had first seen the rodents and I had a hunch they might be silent gifts–messages to communicate that my vermin problem is being taken care of, and I think I’m right!
Red Shouldered Hawks are about 17-24 inches tall and can live 15-20 years. So regal, so lovely, so important to the balance of nature. We need to protect them and their habitats, too.
I saw him fly away but wasn’t quick enough to focus the camera to capture the incredible wingspan.
When it cooled off slightly in late afternoon, I went out to the garden to water plants because it’s been SO HOT and everything is parched. We haven’t had rain in a long, long time.
I heard chirpy calls that sounded a bit distressful. How could I tell? I like to think that I can communicate with animals–whether or not that’s true, it does make me listen to them, and I feel that I can distinguish one sound from another, sort of like when you know why your baby is crying, whether it’s hungry or tired or frustrated…
At that precise moment that I heard those chirps, I was walking on my stone pathway and I looked down. There, camouflaged on a rock, I spied a tiny bird. If I hadn’t paid attention, I would have stepped on him/her!
I ran back on the deck to grab my phone, and he had hopped up on an exposed tree root.
I began to have a chat with this darling creature who appeared to be lost and a bit scared. I can understand why, because he’s definitely NOT supposed to be sitting on a gray rock exposed to all sorts of danger.
I brought over a small pan of fresh water and watched him hop around a little and flex his wings, so I surmised he had fallen out of a nest and wasn’t actually injured.
Again I became aware of lots of birds circling the area, yellow chirpy finches calling out to this little guy, so I knew it was a Lesser Goldfinch fledgling, a common bird in Southern California and one I often am lucky enough to see around here.
From the tree root he hopped onto a hanging succulent and finally made it all the way into a basin shaped planter on top of the tree stump. With his family encouraging him to join them and fly to safety, I thought it was best to give them all space and went in the house.
Later, just before dark, I checked and he was gone. As soon as I woke up this morning, I checked again and there’s no sign of him.
Fingers crossed, I’m hopeful that this was another happy ending at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
I discovered a lovely poem by Mary Oliver:
In the fields we let them have- in the fields we don’t want yet-
where thistles rise out of the marshlands of spring, and spring open- each bud a settlement of riches-
a coin of reddish fire- the finches wait for midsummer, for the long days,
for the brass heat, for the seeds to begin to form in the hardening thistles, dazzling as the teeth of mice, but black,
filling the face of every flower. Then they drop from the sky. A buttery gold, they swing on the thistles, they gather
the silvery down, they carry it in their finchy beaks to the edges of the fields, to the trees,
as though their minds were on fire with the flower of one perfect idea- and there they build their nests and lay their pale-blue eggs,
every year, and every year the hatchlings wake in the swaying branches, in the silver baskets,
and love the world. Is it necessary to say any more? Have you heard them singing in the wind, above the final fields? Have you ever been so happy in your life?
I’ve never played a single musical instrument — well, I took a few guitar lessons many years ago but I can’t remember a thing plus I had no talent.
We have a piano because of Angel Boy. His grandma really wanted him to learn so he could play Ode to Joy and Fur Elise for her, which he did, and it made her very happy, especially during her final illness.
I looked up on this very sunny and hot blue sky day and the first thing that popped into my head was that I was looking a musical score of some sort.
I think I’m not the only one who has observed birds on wires and took similar photos, but this is my contribution. Whatever tune they’re playing is a special sort of magic. Counting Crows?
I crossed the street to see if there were herons or egrets in the ditch that feeds the lagoon, and this is what I saw.
They almost looked like lily or lotus pads, but it’s a cluster of green algae. I hope it’s not toxic, BUT it clearly demonstrates how things that look beautiful might be harmful, noxious, destructive, and dangerous.