I was running a tad later than I like to this morning. While I was traipsing through the back yard to open the old wood sliding garage door, I passed the first blossom on a native something-or-another. A plant I rescued on the red dot 75% off rack a couple summers ago. It’s mostly a green bushy thing, very drought tolerant, and the blossoms are profuse and fluttery like butterflies.
This was the first, floating in a sea of green. When I saw the rain clinging to the petals, I slowed enough to look and then I wheeled on toward the garage.
“Wait,” I thought, “you totally have time.” So before undoing the combination lock, I opened my phone and went back to take the picture.
I didn’t notice any difference in my counter-commute by adding a minute to take a photo. So my mini- mantra today was, “I have time.”
This is a big deal to rein me in, because I am used to getting a bazillion things done and I do it by processing things quickly without dawdling or wasting time. I began on the drive. I have time to watch the cloudscape and match the music to the sky.
When I got to school, I had time to talk with a teacher. I had time to start figuring out the final Student Study Team roster.
When my readers came in, I had time to listen to little things they had to say, and we still got our re-reading and new read done.
At lunch I had time to bring in my laptop, since it was rainy day schedule and there were overly animated children in the pod, playing games. I had time to sit and draft a vision for our school arts program. I wrote a previous post in response to the sweeping vision submitted by a district teacher. Now, today, I had time to write a more modest one, based on what I gauge we could realistically do in the next three years. Not to constrain us, but to set us up for success. I just wanted to think about it and I had time.
When I got home from school, I went to the cellar for wine to open for my mom. I had time to ask her choice of snack. What has happened to Ms. Rush Rush?
Since there was leftover baked chicken, I had time to make chicken salad for lunches tomorrow and prep dinner. With an hour of lovely time left before I’ll cook supper.
Fullness and freshness is in the little moments. I am content to glance up at the evening clouds white and dark gray over in the eastern sky. It is pleasant to see the neighbor’s bush sprouting yellow leaves, or are they going to be blossoms?
I’m glad that this morning I circled back and took that flower photo. It’s a rain soaked mandala and a five star reminder that there is time for the little things.
During the day the bigger things worked better in that frame, too.