Every now and then, in the ongoing attempt at the practice of mindfulness, one is graced with a visionary flash of enlightenment incomparable in character. One never knows how or when it will arrive. The only certainty is that such a moment can not be predicted. One came to me a few evenings ago when our good friend Sheila, about whom I've written before, and who is my model and mentor in the spiritual practice of genuine mindfulness, joined Moe and me on the deck overlooking the backyard.
It was the end of the week. We brushed off the chairs. We relaxed with an appetizer and good beverages of choice to the tune of evening birdsong. We exclaimed over a steady stream of feathered species at the feeder and in the trees, including the beautiful and dignified pair of bluebirds I knew to be actively nesting somewhere in the vicinity, though I hadn't yet discovered where.
Squirrels entertained us by leaping and marching boldly past to clean up the seed chaff on the floor of the deck under the feeder, confident we would do them no harm.
The evening was mild, the scene was peaceful. Dusk folded around us and we chose to move inside for dinner. We stepped across the threshold into the kitchen. Then came the moment of truth that is the topic of this post. With all the elegance of the successful trial attorney that she is, Sheila turned to me and said, "Debby, your birding hobby is an admirable one, but are you aware that your deck is covered with shit?"
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| :-( |
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| poo of squirrel |
Well, yes, there is that. dkm
