I walked out to turn off the sprinkler and was stopped in my tracks by the sheer delight of seeing a Willie Wagtail perched on the rim of a flower pot singing its little heart out as it took a bath.
The garden had enough water but there was no way I could rob the bird of its pleasure so I sat on the porch chair and watched and listened and waited for it to finish. I am sure it knew I was watching.
It preened, it shook its feathers, it danced and sang; it stayed, singing beneath the shower for so long that I wondered if it would be too wet to fly, but fly it did, disappearing into a rose madder sunset.
I remained sitting, gazing at where the bird had been and I was glad I had noticed, that I hadn’t just turned the water off and deprived it of its pleasure. My reward was the wonder of sharing its joy and while I watched, I was really there in the moment, just me, the bird, the water and the sunshine.
