mimic_a_gentle_rainfall lostgirl as i stood alone, early this muggy august morning, i directed the spray of water over my little garden in an effort to mimic a gentle rainfall for my thirsty herbs and flowers. did the green just get greener in answer to the drenching quench i provided? did the colors of the impatiens seem to suddenly brighten? they are all so needy and dependent...they need the sun, but not so much of it. they need the nourishing soil....they need rain. (mother nature is holding her tears inside too long these days....) my thirsty plants as well as my water bill wish she would weep quietly now and again instead of flying into her occasional frenzied thunderous rage. i looked through the muted rainbow the sun and i were creating, and a huge orange and black butterfly caught my eye. he was perching on the fence post just beyond the garden. it was the largest butterfly i had ever laid eyes on, and it prompted me to stop watering to get a closer look. (me and my butterflies....) we locked eyes as he stood still and wary, but somehow proud, quietly flapping, yet slowly out of sync. i could see he had a severely damaged wing...i reached toward him, and he didn't move. i didn't touch, but i worried about him for some strange reason. this butterfly needed help for his ailment, help that would never come. and then, as i bent down to pick up a wayward soda can pop top, a cricket jumped onto my hand, seeming to say, "hey!" (crickets are good luck when you find them in your home....but what about when they greet you in person in your herb garden?) i moved my other hand to shoo her into the grass, and i noticed she had a missing back leg. i worried about her too...more broken pieces that will never mend. and so i picked up my hose to carry on with my watering, and i thought about how life, how nature, human or otherwise, can be so unpredictable and imperfect. so random. there is a plethora of moving parts and each has its corresponding opportunities for mistakes, accidents, chance meetings, and connections.... things collide and stick, or they crash and break apart scattering shards about. sometimes it's painful, and sometimes it feels like ecstasy. there are so many games to play, spaces to fill, and all things change in each instant, making the next a new one altogether. but, so too exists an infinite amount of positivity, of possibility....for creating beauty and cultivating it into all it's potential, sometimes more. we need, and we provide. and it somehow all works out. somehow the positive balances the negative, and the result is the sum of all parts. it's_working, but i still sometimes shake my head at the peculiarity of reality. and when i looked up again, bouncing out of my strange philosophical reverie, i gazed through my homemade rainbow, and i saw the broken winged butterfly had gone.         100813 what's it to you? who go blather from