Behind the Puddle

I’ve spent much of the afternoon watching the trees behind the puddle. Every day, a few more leaves disappear, another branch becomes visible, and the view changes just a little more. Autumn has certainly given me plenty to appreciate lately, and apparently I’ve been so busy watching the trees that I nearly forgot to look at the puddle itself.

This afternoon, after finishing a phone consultation with a potential new Planning Forward participant, I looked up to discover two Canada geese enjoying the water. The conversation had gone well, and I came away feeling that we might be a good fit to work together. It was a pleasant way to finish a conversation, looking out to see two unexpected visitors quietly going about their afternoon.

Of course, I immediately started wondering who they were.

Could they be two of the geese we watched throughout the summer? Perhaps one is our lone goose, who has finally found someone to spend a little time with. Or maybe they’re two entirely different geese who happened upon the puddle and decided it looked like a perfectly reasonable place to spend an October afternoon.

I have no way of knowing, and I suppose they aren’t particularly concerned about introducing themselves.

For months, the geese were such a familiar part of life behind the puddle. We watched families grow, little ones learn their way around the water, and the ordinary comings and goings of neighbors who never seemed to need an invitation. Somewhere along the way, the visits became less frequent, the trees began changing, and my attention followed the season.

And today, while I was busy noticing everything that was leaving, two geese reminded me to notice what was still here.

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about how much I will miss the puddle when winter settles in. I know the view will change, the wildlife activity will become different, and many of the familiar sights of summer will become memories to carry into another season. But winter isn’t here yet, and perhaps I’ve been getting a little ahead of myself.

There are still afternoons to enjoy, visitors to welcome, and ordinary moments that deserve our attention. There are still stories unfolding, even when we haven’t been watching closely enough to notice their beginning.

I think about how easily this happens in other parts of life, too. We become so aware of what is changing, what might be ending, or what lies ahead that we sometimes overlook the things continuing quietly around us. Not because they matter any less, but because our attention can only be in so many places at once.

Today was a good reminder that noticing one thing doesn’t mean everything else has stopped happening.

I don’t know whether these two geese are returning neighbors, old friends reunited, or simply passing through. I don’t need to know to appreciate their visit. For whatever time they choose to stay, they are part of the life happening behind the puddle today.

And as for those trees I’ve been admiring all afternoon, they’ll still be there when I look up again.

Perhaps with a few fewer leaves.

Behind the Puddle | Ordinary Life, Noticed

Sometimes, while we’re busy noticing what is changing, we nearly miss what is still here.