Late yesterday afternoon I was using a garden hose to hand-water a rose bush. It was thirsty, so I stood in one place as the stream showered its liquid life on the plant. To my right, about four feet away is about a ten-foot tall plant covered in beautiful purple flowers.
As I silently stood admiring it, out of the corner of my eye a litle feathery flash flew into the tall bush.
I stood motionless to see if the little bird might show itself again.
To my delight and surprise first one, then two, and soon a total of six little feathered friends showed themselves as they danced from branch to branch as if to a merry tune that only they could hear.
One even jumped onto one of the top branches of the rose bush I was watering. I made sure that the spray never quite reached the bird but put the stream close enough so a little mist could cool the little creature. It was clear he was enjoying himself immensely. He even scratched his cheek by rubbing it on a stem.
I knew the magic would end as soon as I moved to water the next rose bush, so I lingered a bit. Soaking up the moment and making a memory.
Then I moved, and in a flash they were gone.