I often explore in these writings, do we listen or do we really hear? Do we look or do we see? Do we sniff or do we really smell? Do we touch or do we feel? Do we eat or do we really taste?
A wildlife garden is a busy ecosystem with all its strands and food chains.
I was sat in one such garden the other day, watching the rain arrive. That life giving occurrence that often causes the amphibians, slugs and worms to appear.
Initially single drops, disintegrating on impact, or retaining their form in little gelatinous balls, distorting the light. Their form secure, yet fragile at the same time. Reminiscent of all life in a wildlife garden, even our own existence in it.
Are we fully aware of all that makes up the construct of these little jewels of life? What stories could each droplet tell if they could speak? Maybe, they do communicate a message, and by using our hearing, senses of touch, taste and smell, not just our vision. We may actually be able to pick up those communications?
When it rains, do we experience each droplet or just that it’s wet?
What happens to those individual rain drops as they are joined by others and merge to form a layer of the wet stuff? On a microscopic level can this merged body of water still offer up parameters and a residual separation. So each drop still exists whilst still being part of the sum total of the mass of water?
Kind of again reflective of the ecosystems in our gardens and in our own lives. A bigger picture is always made up of an infinite volume of individual parts.
These little rains drops I was watching are not only a reflection of the light, but they reflect ourselves back at us too.
Wildlife Gardening Specialist