My joy is the silence, waiting and listening.
I am grounded, within those small moments
Life in all of its complexities does not exist.
The birds song is the sound of happiness.
The real joy, is finding someone who shares that passion.
A recent trip to the Botanical gardens, a day out for my mothers birthday, I asked for a hint on what I could buy her as a gift. She said she would like one of my bird sketches. We stopped at the café, and ordered hot chocolates before our walk. The first thing I noticed was the amount of wrens flitting about and jumping from table to table.
Happiness washed over me.
I cannot deny the simple fact that birds make me happy. On this particular day I did not have my camera with me. The children thought the cheeky birds were cute and fed them crumbs. I sat quietly grinning and savoured the moment.
I think we forget to enjoy those tiny moments. A wren sat on the back of my mum’s chair and we both smiled. My mum loves birds too.
My mum knows happiness and makes every day count. She is thankful for the sunshine on a winter’s day. She smiles at the children playing in the playground and enjoys her surroundings where ever we go, especially the birds. I feel blessed she handed her positiveness down to us.
Happy birthday mum you are my inspiration.
After that day in the gardens I decided I would sketch a blue wren for her birthday. I added a bit of extra charm by using newspaper and was happy with the results. The best way to express how much I love my mum is through my art.
Happiness is sharing my passion for birds with my beautiful mum.
I leave you with Mary Oliver, she really knew how to see and enjoy the smallest of moments. Her passion for nature shines through.
“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”
― Mary Oliver