Woodchucks, Lightning Bugs, Bees

Stillness.

A beautiful word by itself on a page.

A way to evoke and sharpen your senses.

I’ve been spending time in stillness lately, and it’s been a good summer…

In my backyard, I’ve observed a wood chuck/ground hog/whistle pig/ land beaver. Apparently, these are all the same animal, just with differing, regional names. I had never heard the terms ‘whistle pig’ or ‘land beaver’ before, but I’d love to travel to wherever they use these words.

“Yeah. Got a whistle pig in my back yard.”

“That land beaver’s been eating all my clover.”

Heh heh.

Our fellow pops from his hole in the hollow log, scuttles over the rock wall, and belly flops into the neighbor’s vegetable garden. He surveys the landscape for humans and then proceeds to eat the eggplants. Our neighbor has put up a fence to try and keep him out, but I suspect Chucky Whistle will find an underground route and resurface.

I’m still. Waiting.

In a recent conversation with my Dad, I shared that I’ve been watching fireflies in our backyard. He said, “You remember how you used to catch them?”

I winced, hoping that I wasn’t too cruel as a kid.

“Oh no,” my Dad reassured, “you always let them go. They were just your temporary flashlights.”

Temporary flashlights. Nice.

My Dad went on to say, “Remember how it was whenever we went out? Sitting still was an unspoken mandate. Lying down in the grass and waiting for the stars to come out. And if you held out your arm and stayed quiet, the lightning bugs would land on you.”

Lightning bugs.

In Tampa, where my Dad lives, thunder storms are common and the lightning is fantastic! There’s something poetic and powerful about imagining a little kid with lightning bugs on her arm, so many together that they’d make their own storm.

I sit on the steps and wait for them to come out. One by one they do. Far away. Close. Far away. Closer.

Unspoken mandate. Be still.

My neighbor has gorgeous lavender plants, and thankfully, wild bees are pollinating them.

I love watching bees wiggle and get dotted with all that pollen. Once they are ‘full,’ they fly in the direction of the woods behind our house. I hope there’s a hive out there. I hope they stay happy and healthy.

One blossom to the next. And the next. And then off into the woods.

Sit still and watch. Woodchucks, lightning bugs, bees.

Sweet summer time.