Violets for the Soul

This morning I received a little reminder that violets for the soul are often found when we take the time to just “be.”

My day so far had been filled with busy work, household chores and end-of-week preparations. A voice in the back of my head kept nagging me that I must do something productive – tackle the giant pile of “to-be-filed” papers in the study, get to the gym, work on the income taxes.

A couple of years into retirement, I’ve found that the deadlines and expectations of workweeks long past are hard to shake. I allowed myself a few moments for a morning stroll around the back yard for inspiration.

As I stepped onto the patio, I chuckled to find our dog, Jacques, lounging on “my” chair. A precocious coton de tulear rescued after Hurricane Harvey, Jacques came into our lives six years ago this month when we met him at a Super Bowl party. He continues to amuse us with various eccentricities, such as his penchant for sitting on a chair, preferably cushioned, to be on the same level as the humans.

I took his cue and, finding a seat, looked around and realized I was missing quite a show.

A hard freeze had contributed to the generally dreary scene before me. But despite the shriveled leaves, the brown grass and the absence of pretty flowers, our garden was nonetheless providing sustenance and shelter for the wildlife that keep us on their daily neighborhood rounds.

The sky was a bright blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. Crape myrtles towering over the garden formed an aviary of sorts for birds awaiting their turns at the suet cakes my husband makes from scratch each week. The leafless branches – along with birdbaths, shepherd’s hooks and various structures we’ve added over the years – offered plenty of room to find a perch.

Wind chimes swayed in a light breeze, their music a counterpoint to the cacophony of chirps and tweets filling the air. Two rather outspoken feathered friends struck up a heated conversation in a language I wish I understood.

As I sat quietly, a hummingbird appeared a few feet away to visit one of the feeders we’ve provided for their annual migration south. Ten minutes later, a feeder on the other side of the garden had a visitor. I wondered if they were travel buddies making a quick pit stop before continuing their journey.

A squirrel, aware of Jacques sitting sentinel nearby, made a half-hearted attempt at patrolling the fence, occasionally venturing over to our side before scampering away. I looked up to notice that the white cloud directly above us was turning gray. I remembered that rain was in the forecast and was grateful that Jacques had convinced me to join him outside while the opportunity was there.

The paperwork still awaits, and the gym still calls. But I’m glad I listened to Jacques and gained a valuable lesson, albeit from a dog’s perspective: Sometimes the best, most productive thing we can do with our time is to simply be still and do nothing at all.