King of the woodpile
I usually work in a back room I’ve nicknamed the dungeon (no windows and a sometimes depressing place when the muse plays hard to get), but on weekend mornings when everyone else sleeps in, I work from the living room sofa. One reason I work in the dungeon is because I’m easily distracted by what’s going on in our yard. The main reason I enjoy working from the sofa is because I CAN be distracted by what’s going on in our yard.
The view from the sofa is through a sliding glass door. I can see the birdbath and feeder, and our woodpile. One of my greatest joys is watching the resident fence lizard, king of the woodpile, greet the sun with a few blue-belly pushups and hop from stick to stick to his split-oak throne. There were no lizards on this property when we moved here. The little parcel of land had been beaten into submission and abused without thought, and we rarely saw much beyond some bees in the dandelions. But after just a few years of healing, the yard bubbles with life — toads beyond count, birds of all feathers, pollinators galore, and more. And I didn’t do much to help this along. It’s what I did not do that made all the difference. There’s an important lesson here. A lesson that could apply to many areas of our lives.
The lizard’s morning ritual symbolizes nature’s resilience. It reminds me that balance can return with little more than my getting out of its way.