I was simply ecstatic.
I was tickled and giggly and physically elated.
I couldn’t get enough of the situation, which lasted a good, long twenty minutes, plenty time for delicious, spacious savoring.
Three of the fattest, most waddling of mallards made their way down the street outside my house.
Their presence brought traffic to a halt.
Okay, it’s not a massive thoroughfare, I will admit. Nevertheless, cars do come and go on Seekonk Road.
But not now.
Now they were stopped, three and four deep, to watch these fellas (two boys and a girl, I do think) make their way.
It’s unclear just where they were headed, walking down the main road, then down the dirt crossroad.
Were they just out for a ramble?
Perhaps they were investigating possibilities?
I adored them—and our paths would cross more intimately in a few minutes.
After my snapping a dozen pictures and watching people’s delight, finally, the excitement quieted down. With the ducks out of sight, Zac and I took a breath and headed out on our afternoon amble down the dirt crossroads.
Guess who we met?
Yes, the three mallards, walking, not swimming in the pond directly next to us, but waddling, with serious intentionality—out for a purposeful stroll.
I think of Mary Oliver’s poem, Mindful:
I see or hear
that more or less
that leaves me
like a needle
in the haystack
It was what I was born for —
to look, to listen,
to lose myself
inside this soft world —
to instruct myself
over and over
Nor am I talking
about the exceptional,
the fearful, the dreadful,
the very extravagant —
but of the ordinary,
the common, the very drab,
the daily presentations.
Oh, good scholar,
I say to myself,
how can you help
but grow wise
with such teachings
as these —
the untrimmable light
of the world,
the ocean’s shine,
the prayers that are made
out of grass?
Ah, those daily presentations! Those moments when life, usually through the lens of nature, slips into my heart, flings it effortlessly open to the awe, to the unity, to the beauty of us all, together, here, waddling down our own crossroads, out for a ramble.
May we all be lost inside this soft world.
May we all open to the daily presentations, the offerings of grace, to our hearts.
May we practice seeing and when we can’t, may we breathe and relax,
And come back here,
As best we can.
Dear Friends, what daily presentations open your heart? What are you noticing, as spring beckons us forward? Please send them on. Receiving your emails is a joy and a blessing, so please do keep them coming.
All voices welcomed—all experiences sacred.
*Title and poem from Mary Oliver’s, Mindful