Monthly Essays

Small Things

There are times when I slow down, am mindful, and notice small things. Spring is a particular season for that because nature changes so quickly. I think the blades in my iris bed grow an inch a day. Certainly, the view out my office window at the woods, while always the same, is never the same.

I hope I notice nature year-round and not just in the season when it’s on steroids. In summer, I feel the sunshine on my shoulders that made John Denver happy. It makes me happy, too. On windy days in autumn, I watch brown leaves drift down as if waving goodbye to me. Sure, I notice how very still and silent the outdoors is after a snowfall. Shrubs are dormant, sleeping. Do they make a sound when warm sunny days wake them up? They certainly stretch and yawn with opening leaves.

Because I have a big back yard that an extreme optimist would never ever call a lawn, tiny flowers from some sort of grass or weed pixelate it this time of year. I used to not want the yard mowed, even though the grass needed it, because tiny flowers covered the ground like a picnic quilt. When a breeze comes up, it causes a ripple effect, like “the wave” at a football game, changing the color by revealing the undersides of those tiny petals. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen “the wave” in a long time. Maybe it’s gone out of fashion because it takes a united effort, which seems to have gone out of fashion, too.

Yesterday, I watched a small flock of birds land in the yard, pick and peck at the grass for something, insects, worms, seeds, then fly off en masse. How do they know to fly in unison to a tree, and what is the signal to drop back to the ground? Why did they make the sudden flight? I don’t know much about birds, although I once heard an ornithologist speak about birds having four color cones in their retinas compared to our three. The fourth is ultraviolet, which lets them view an array of colors we can’t see. That explains why we admire handsome red male cardinals, and the female cardinals seem plain janes. I’d love to know what those redbirds see when they look at their mates. They must be neon.

I should be mindful of ephemeral wonders not just in nature. Like a little while ago when I glanced at the time on my computer. 11:11. Isn’t that the legendary mystic moment to reflect, align goals, make a wish? That minute of this very day has already slipped away. Before I waste another second, I’m going to head outside and see what small thing Mother Nature has provided for me to appreciate. Join me?

To read ebooks, download the free Kindle app on your phone, tablet, or computer.

The Alley South of Main: Book Four in the Lost Creek Novel Series

Welcome back to Lost Creek, Arkansas, where Olivia and her likable family of friends are making big changes in their lives and the town. But change doesn’t come easy, and each character wrestles with choices. Olivia, with her gentle wit and a bit of sarcasm, journeys through memories of her late husband and narrates the heartwarming story of friendship and community with a few town secrets thrown in. Of course, former NFL player George shows up time and again to poke his finger in the mix. Although serious topics are introduced, all are handled with a sensitive touch.

Fans of Jan Karon’s Mitford series will enjoy the Lost Creek Novels, a contemporary look at life in a small town. Read and enjoy it now.

space

2026 essays