The low autumn sun glances across Halcyon Pond. Chill breezes, gentle for now, dance on the water’s surface, ruffling the reflections as in an antique mirror. The first fallen leaves float lazily, enjoying their last moments before they sink and rejoin the earth. Do they dream of their time in the sun, waving from the treetops at the passing clouds? Do they look longingly at their blushing companions still clinging to the branches? Or, instead, look forward with weariness toward sleep?
It is time to prepare the gardens for winter’s rest. I remove the accumulated detritus, revealing a perfect pillow of moss–a mass of emerald green stars hugging the ground.
A tiny snail, its shell not even a quarter inch across, hides within when I disturb the soil. It peaks back out, minuscule antennae waving tentatively when I sit quiet. Its shell is luminescent, glistening in the sun like mother of pearl, spiraling in a perfect example of Fibonacci’s series. It creeps across a mushroom cap beautifully frilled and pearl white in spite of the dirt from which it emerged.
With my face so close the the earth, its scent filling me with peace, I encounter the plants and creatures that normally go unnoticed. As I sit quiet and grateful, Nature shares its mysteries through its lowliest members.