I cleared my head after work today by taking a walk through the cemetery. It is my closest green space and I depend on it for my sense of the seasons. I get a glimpse into it each day, as the subway emerges from its tunnel briefly. And, when we're on the threshold of something, I go there to feel those animal instincts of change.
Tonight, it was filled with robins. I always miss the robins from home, such sweet fat birds, friendly with gardeners. The Canadian robins are bigger and less tame, but they signal spring the way robins at home adorn Christmas cards. One day in March, you'll see one and then quickly you see them everywhere and know it's afoot.
I thought it was another robin rustling in the leaves when I spotted a little bandit friend. We eyed each other up amiably and he followed me and my camera around for a bit. The eyes of a wild animal have a power to yank me out of my introspective mulling, commanding me to be fully present not only in my surroundings, but in the moment too. And that made whatever happened at work today seem suddenly so forgettable.