Precarious Life

I climb the ladder, grasping hold of the gutter at the second step, hanging on as I reach the top. I scoop leaves with one hand, careful not to overreach. I retreat to the ground and move the ladder.

On my third ascent, before reaching the top, I’m dismayed. A tiny bird in iridescent green and purple, has been driven from the sky by wind and rain. It is perfectly still, eyes closed as though in a nest. But it is on the roof, mere inches from the eaves. Nothing else, not even leaves, near.

Carefully, I cup this little treasure, hoping the warmth I feel is not merely reflected heat from the roof. I croon to it, but it does not move. I feel no heartbeat.

I’ve had to release my grip on the gutter. I descend slowly, talking to this beautiful creature.

Holding its lifeless body, I wonder – is this the one that paused beside me at the end of summer?

I had been reading with my back to the vermillionaire plant – a favorite of hummingbirds. At the buzz of wings by my ear, I turned. We stared at each other for a moment as it hovered before speeding off over the roof.

I find a small box, the perfect size, decorated with rocks and pearls and a heart-shaped design. I will have a ceremony in the spring, maybe place this small coffin beside another vermillionaire. A reminder that life is precious – and precarious.

Sunrise

For years before, and then after, I tracked the exact minute of sunrise, day by day. Not that I was up at sunrise – especially in the summer. It just seemed important to know when daylight would arrive. It fostered resentment for darker days of the year, especially during many years in Oregon.

But even in those few years in California, I meticulously tracked sunrise there – and also here.

Surprising, then, that this year I’ve paid little attention.

What changed? Is it a factor of my age? Am I losing something by such neglect? Am I becoming less Virgo and more . . . more – what? Libra? In my chart the moon is in Libra. But I have Gemini hidden in there, too. So maybe I’m finding balance and gaining ability to see more than one approach to the rhythms of life.

It feels like a new freedom. I can embrace each season. I don’t have to leave home to find sunshine in winter. I can jog with rain sprinkling my face. I can bundle up against damp foggy days. I can inhale wild scents and sights in spring and go near-naked in the summer.

I can be alive! I am alive! What a blessing.