Sometimes things are right under your nose (and sometimes you need to look up)

As I lay on the grass looking at the sky, a dragonfly flew into view. It was not the soft float of the monarch butterfly, the wave-like flight of a chaffinch, or the glide of a hawk. It zig-zagged. It stopped, started and darted again and again at sharp angles. It’s because each of its four wings are controlled by separate muscles. They have extraordinary control over where and how fast they go. This distinctive movement will often alert me to the fact it’s a dragonfly before I register its equally distinctive shape. 

But it wasn’t the dragonfly’s signature style that caught my eye. It was that it was 20 feet in the air.

I’ve been looking for the dragonfly these last few weeks, wondering when it would appear. I’ve walked the garden, peering into the long grass, all the time looking three feet off the ground. Here it was zooming around waaaaay above my head. How long has it been up here? How often did it register me down on the ground, fumbling around?

There’s been lots of hints in my life lately about being willing and able to see differently. It can feel strange, wanting to sit and stare at the clouds for long periods, or lie on the grass with my chin in my hands. I’ve questioned my right to do something so, well…different. The first words that came to mind there were ‘indulgent’ and ‘unproductive’, but in the spirit of seeing differently, I’ll just say that it’s not what many people seem inclined to do.

Having said that, the last few weeks have been busy with book and website things. Both are exciting projects, but I fell into them as you would a rabbit hole (we found a rabbit hole down the back last week, by the way). Let me tell you, you can’t see clouds from down a rabbit hole. When you’re in a rabbit hole, you forget that clouds exist. I’ve felt a bit lost, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. 

I read a question today—how much will you give to get what you want? Will you miss the beauty of the simple summer sky, the abundant perfume of roses clamouring for your attention, and the song of a nearby friend?

It turns out, for me, the answer is no. I don’t want to miss seeing the sky, or any other small and perfect thing I usually make time for. As for feeling or seeing differently, I realised my favourite people in the world also love staring at clouds, paying attention to small things, and noticing what often goes unnoticed. It’s good company to be in. Seeing things differently might actually be a productive way to spend our time. 

I’ve decided to spend more time exploring and sharing the many different ways I’ve found to stay connected to the land (some of which are hinted at here: lying in the grass; staring at clouds; noting flight patterns; asking questions).

I’m creating a newsletter on my almost-ready website. It’s called The Weekly Letter, and it is what it says on the label - a weekly letter from me to you, with all sorts of things in it including ways to feel connected to the place you live. 

Would you like to receive that email from me? You can PM your email address and I’ll add you to the list, otherwise I’ll share my website here when it’s done and you can check it out over there. 

Mary xoxox

p.s. I’d love to hear what cool things you’ve noticed lately. Feel free to tell me about all-things-tiny.

p.p.s This pic is a grass seed-head. It's purple! It has tiny, perfect purple sepal thingees! Who knew??