Actually, it's not. Change abounds. This morning while swimming, I noticed the quiet. The catbirds no longer are calling, no longer perched on their familiar seats, and the chatter from deep within the tall shrubs is gone. It seems they've flown the nest; the nestlings have fledged.
After awhile I noticed a convention of sparrows gathered around the tall shrub. Almost as one, and suddenly, they penetrated the deep green foliage and disappeared. Will the sparrows take over the space? Is there something left to forage? What interest do sparrows have in the former territory of catbirds?
There's always someone to come in after someone else is gone.
Dragonflies gilded in deep, shiny gold fly over the swimming pool today. Hovering, diving, aerial acrobatics on display. Are they a sign that the seasons are changing? In a few weeks, golden school busses will move through the neighborhood and I'll likely see them for a few weeks during my morning swim. And then, the pool will close and I'll migrate back to LA Fitness. The summer seems to fly as fast as dragonflies do.
Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday is a (nearly) daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience.
Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.
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