Canada geese in a cow pasture
Tundra swans stopping over at the swamps
Crushed beaver on the side of the road
In the bustle of my days, amid the angst over illness and the demands of the job, I am making room for the unexpected to arrive. Whether it arrives in the field or the other side of my door, I have decided to welcome it with a wide open heart. Miracles are calling my name.
It began, again, with the whisper to carry my camera where ever I go. I had forgotten in the tumult of the bustle. So, when the notion to suddenly drive to the swamps took hold, I was ready.
The reward was swift.
Hundreds of Canada geese honked and wallowed in the cow puddles overflowing with spring rain. I pulled over, camera in hand, and let their raucous chorus vibrate my soul. Then, further on, the jackpot. The unexpected of very large proportion. A pool at the swamps with small, floating icebergs that turned into tundra swans as I approached. There were more than 100. It was a life-list moment.
The moment expanded when 2 women of serious birding pedigree pulled up and walked over to me with their high-powered, tripod scope. They insisted I get a better view. Instantly, I was floating on the cold-water surface counting feathers on the napes of gracefully bent necks.
And there beavers, 5 alive, swimming here and there with last year's swamp grass in their mouths. The crushed one on the side of the road, the one who didn't make the dash from pool to pool, allowed for another unexpected surprise of my first up close view of the spectacular, handy-man's tail and webbed mammal feet.
I am making room for the unexpected to arrive.
I am keeping things cleaner at home. (One never knows when opportunity and love might come to call.) I am lipstick and cash on the way out the door. I am camera and tea in my handbag. I am mornings in silence, listening for the miracle nudge. I am arms wide spread like the wings of a swan, welcoming and ready for flight.