Just before spring and during spring, Foxes Lair in Narrogin was flower extravaganza. It was not difficult to see beauty any and everywhere you looked.
In summer, I looked for smaller things. Minutiae. After the rain I knew there would be rain drops left behind, not yet found by the warmth of the sun. So I went looking. Often I cannot see the detail when I take a photograph. It is only when on my screen that I see what my lens has captured.
I love these tiny purple flowers found growing in hard clay soil. They are smaller than an infant’s nail. They are blooming everywhere at the Lair right now. So are the wild, native bluebells, stronger in hue, when blooming in shade.
The tiny, tiny, purple/blue flowers that I am yet to identify. All growing gracefully under the harshest of conditions.
Then there were the pink flowers, strung together with strands of diamonds.
Along the hardened clay ground, the most exquisite and delicate flowers, similar to the mulla mulla found in the Pilbara region, were growing like ground cover.
The pink tendrils that grew along the ground, each smaller than the pinky finger of a child, but encrusted with tiny pink flowers.
I thought the moss under the shade of a huge gum tree looked unusual, so I took a picture only to find the ‘blurry’ white I noticed were the smallest of flowers.
So why do small things matter?
I hear people talk about their hiking trips to various parks but I am yet to see how it transforms them. A hike, it seems, appears to be a hike. They take in the grandeur, the largeness of the landscape. They miss the detail.
In a three hour hike around the reserve I was dwarfed by large gum trees, and huge sprawling scrub. I, too, could have been submerged in the vastness. But, I found what the eye could not see. I sensed there was something beautiful, so I took the picture. I had a visceral response each time when I did.
I have captured moments of oneness. Moments of being attuned to my surrounds and being at one with it. It is the essence of mindfulness.
Small things matter.
In relationships too.
Until next time
a dawn bird