Noticing The Little Things

I will not write about Covid-19. I will not write about Covid-19. I will NOT write about Covid-19.

There. Got that out of my system. But since we aren’t doing much in the way of sports and this is the Sports Section, what’s left? What lessons can I teach? What wisdom can I impart?

Well, maybe not much. My world is very singular now. And most of my inspiration comes from experiences—things I do, see, or hear. Right now, my life is work, eat, sleep, repeat, so I’m finding far less inspiration.

So, I went outside. Sat out on the back of the building where I work, having a snack. The sky was what the meteorologists call “partly cloudy.” Not the big Cumulus clouds that you can use your imagination on. Plain, normal clouds. And a light breeze. A little cool. Perfect weather, really.

I’ve seen a rabbit in our parking lot for a while but while snacking, I saw the squirrel that had left signs that he was hereabouts. He was on the side of the one little Maple tree beside where I usually park for work. Twitchy as they all are, he didn’t like my presence. I was in his world.

When I stopped to look, I noticed birds everywhere. They didn’t seem to be practicing social distancing. My curiosity up, I walked down to the small creek that runs behind our office and splits the Maryville Little League Park.

It seems like I’ve been around that little creek for half my life, first with my kids playing ball on those fields and for nearly 20 years, in an office nearby. I never thought much about it. It was just someplace where kids liked to throw rocks and sometimes fall in.

I never thought of it as a life form but as I gazed into the waters, I noticed lots of life. 

So I took off my shoes and crept down into the creek. The water was cold but after I got used to it, I started exploring. I noticed tiny fish everywhere and several different kinds of aquatic plants. On close inspection, it was teeming with life. Never noticed any of that.

I stopped to listen and could hear the creek gurgling, the birds singing. It didn’t seem like there was as much road noise. Maybe traffic is down because people are staying home more. I could even hear kids playing nearby.

By now my senses were on full alert. I stopped, inhaled, and smelled…nothing. I’ve been in big cities and there is a constant odor, usually rather unpleasant. I grew up in an industrial town that smelled of rotten eggs.

But then I picked up just a hint of something sweet. Honeysuckle was in bloom not too far away and when I really focused, I could distinguish that particularly nice smell. Just because I’m an inquisitive sort, I put on the mask that I had in my pocket to see if it filtered the honeysuckle odor out. I was pleasantly surprised that it did not.

I looked at that little Maple that I’ve written about a few times. Just a stick when first planted, I would say it is now a teenager. One thing I like about it is how it reflects the seasons. Bare in winter. Budded in spring, full bloom in summer. Bright colors in fall. I try to make it a metaphor for life sometimes, but that’s just the poet in me. In all of us.

Is there a point to all this? Yes. Despite the pandemic, the sun will still shine. Regardless of the masks, there are smells to be smelled, sounds to be heard, wonders to be noticed.