There is a lot to be said for just sitting and looking. Waiting. Not knowing what, if anything, will change, and finding the surprises in the nuances.
That’s what I did this morning. Perched in one spot. Just watching. Waiting to see what bird might appear on the fence that I could capture through my long lens, only encumbered by the blanket wrapped around me. I didn’t feel like going anywhere, my body fighting some sort of something that has been going around. But these few hours of sunshine in a forecast of days of grey had to be enjoyed.
So I sat, perched. In the few hours I sat there, I grew quieter and nature grew more vibrant. Not only were the nearby bird songs quite evident, but so was the surround-sound of many others as I listened more intently. I’d never noticed the shadow of a small insect, but I did this morning as I was looking near the ground and a slight darkness went across. A pair of Red-Tailed Hawks flew overhead and near, but left just as quickly as they arrived, unable to be captured in my lens. A Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker tapped at the branches of our neighbor’s tree, a male cardinal eyed me warily, a wren kept flitting on and off the fence as wrens do.
Quieter than my winged visitors, however, was the sunlight. It played against that same fence, changing every few minutes as the sun rose higher. First the shadows were here, then they were over there. Sometimes the fence was in tones of grey; other times the light hit it in such a way that there were worn tones of greens and oranges intermixed with variations in the greyness. I’d set my meter, and by the time another bird arrived it had to be changed again.
Such it can be. What seems to not change can actually have a remarkable play in light. I need to remember this…hold onto and grow in my own need to simply be still, perched and watching… expectant. No photos were taken today that are the “keepers” for all time, but there was a recording of a moment in my soul yet again.