A Conversation about Small Victories

It has rained every weekend for the last umptyump weeks. I'm enjoying the same mix of emotions as everyone else. Yuck for the lack of opportunity to mow the lawn. Yay for the gorgeous green it is right now. Yuk for the missed games and other events along with the sad attempts to reschedule. Yay for the sudden opportunities to spend unorganized time with the family and friends (sarcasm alert there.) 

 The most recent weekend was, for me, the mother of all wrecked weekends. From Friday night through Saturday noon there was about an inch and a half of rain. I set myself the goal of finding the victories in a failure of a day. Phase one was to list what the day wasn't: it wasn't going to be a drought any time soon; It wasn't going to be record breaking temperatures... including a late frost. I could live with that. So what were my victories?

The first thing I'm especially proud of is the fact that that I had mowed the lawn on Friday just before the rain started. I almost didn't, because I had already had a full day and wasn't really feeling it. But my better angels prevailed, for once. That's a great big Yay, and I'm calling it a victory, if only over my own laziness.

Then on Saturday morning I had the usual argument with the dog. He really wanted to go outside, but his transmission kept kicking into reverse once he saw the rain hammering on the deck. I dressed up to go out, hoping to lure him out for at least a brief walk. He didn't fall for the trick, and stared at me from inside the doorway.

But if I hadn't tried to fool him, I wouldn't have seen the hummingbird. I have a pair of sheltered pavilions just outside the front door. Each has a hummingbird feeder under a roof. Now, I will confess that convenience, not shelter, was the purpose of that location. I will still declare a victory... that hummingbird spent the day hunkered down by those feeders, out of the rain.

And there are always things to celebrate  among the flowers. My many varieties of Iris are bursting with joy. They are a water tolerating family of plants, and have chosen to all explode at once in their namesake rainbow of colors. I am claiming one victory among the Iris... I planted a clump of Japanese Iris between two lace leafed elderberries, one almost black in foliage and the other a bright gold. The iris bloom is a deep purple with a golden eye, and both its colors reflect off the colors of the elderberry leaves. All three are thriving and complementing one another.

There are always other small things I can claim no credit for, but call a win when I spot one of the subtle, tiny miracles around us that we so often rush past and don't notice. Like a  meadow wildflower, the Blue-eyed Grass (Sisyrinchium angustifolium). These tiny beauties consist of a blue six petaled single star flower with a bright yellow eye. The flower is only a half inch across, and grows on a stem that looks like a blade of grass. They thrive in wet areas and will make clumps if left undisturbed. But they are so tiny, it's easy to miss them among the other grasses. I'm calling it a victory to see them earlier than I expected. 

So there.