Being Privileged

Two evenings ago, I finally succumbed to the need for the annual summer routine of watering the yard. Rain showers, generous rain showers, blessed our little patch of earth for weeks into July. As August moved in, the scorching heat has arrived in double force.
 

I attached the oscillating sprinkler to the water hose, then pulled it out to lay across the top of the flat board that surrounds the front yard and placed a flat rock on the sprinkler to hold it firm.  Walked to the spigot at the corner of the house to start the water and as I turned to check the spray, birds flew over my head straight for the oak and cedar trees that were being sprinkled by the first refreshing spray of well water rain. It was an Alfred Hitchcock moment. Birds and more birds, all flying with a mission.
 
From her autobiography, “Time To Be Earnest”, P. D. James describes it best:
 

“It was one of those rare moments in which a fugitive beauty, briefly contemplated, untouchable, is experienced with a peculiar intensity, the sense of being a privileged spectator of a life which, however brief, is part of a mysterious whole.”

 

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