A flash of brightness

This morning the house smells of vinegar. Garden designer appointment is a no show.

As window cleaners are coming this afternoon, I clean the windows inside. So much spider poo. White vinegar is good for that.

I spend hours at my desk...doing admin....house stuff, money stuff, arrangements, appointments.

 I can't  go for my walk at the moment...done something to my right knee...so late afternoon I take my camera out into the garden in a brief burst of sunlight.... wanting some air, not really expecting to see anything.

But I notice immediately that  the cows have disappeared from the field

 at the end of my garden.

The sheep have replaced them.

Taking a photo of the sheep I spot this little robin, not moving at all, 

perched in the blackberry bush.

I love it when that happens....

if I put myself in the garden,

 in the field,

 on the footpath,

 under the oak tree,

or

 in the presence of someone who needs love,

or

turn up 

on the empty page,

with a pen, 

on the keyboard,

with fingers poised,

on the yoga mat,

on the public bench

and

be prepared

for something 

or nothing,

then 

any

small joy

can arise.

 

 Ann Lewin says it much better in her poem Disclosure,

 sent to me recently  by my brother-in-law....

about the kingfisher, about prayer.

 Disclosure by Ann Lewin

Prayer is like watching

 for the kingfisher.

All you can do is

be where he is likely to appear

and wait.

Often, nothing much happens:

there is space, silence,

expectancy.

No visible sign.

Only the Knowledge

that he has been there

and may come again.

Seeing or not seeing cease to matter,

you have been prepared.

But sometimes when you've almost 

stopped expecting it,

a flash of brightness

gives encouragement.