Inspired from the Outside In

            Today is exceptional with a blanket of warm wind and cloudy skies so I'm sitting outside to write at my weatherworn picnic table on the deck my husband built.  I am writing a science fiction story about a woman and her dog saving the universe.  I like to think big and of times yet to come.  But a moment ago the familiar, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a hummingbird snatched my attention into the here and now.  I smiled when I looked up to see an iridescent green male Ruby Throated hummingbird hovering near me.  Like a tiny little blimp, eye level.  For a brief moment.  And he was staring right at me. Laugh if you will but it's a message. I knew that the hummingbird feeders were empty and so I apologized as I  retrieved them to clean and fill later.  I feel blessed to be able to provide nectar to a pair of these magical little beings that zoom around my yard in the summer. 

         Inspired, I turn back to writing about Elora, my alter-ego warrior woman and her cyberdog, Indiana Bones, fighting the mythological Jormungandr. Until out of the corner of my eye I see this little chipmunk, standing still like he was having a seizure and yet I know he was scoping out the scene.  Scoping out me.  I'm guessing he's also wondering if the sixty pound canine, my geriatric lab, is on patrol.  The tiny chipmunk perched soundless and still like my granddaughter was when she was four and would stop mid-crossing in the living room with her hands over her eyes, sure she was invisible.  But with no vicious guard dog in sight because she was snoring inside the house, and me sitting as still as the maple tree at my back, safety was determined. In a flash the chipmunk zipped over the hose and under the leaves of the Solomon's seal that fills the garden under my kitchen window.  

            It strikes me once he's vanished that If I don't sit still on my deck I don't see or hear what's really going on.  And it/they don't see me.  My universe is under tight control when I write on my screened-in porch or at my writing desk upstairs. I don't have to swat flies or move because bees are buzzing but I miss a lot.  I miss how life smells, feels and sounds, even with the windows open.  I miss the hummingbirds letting me know the feeders are dry and my resident chipmunk debating it's next move.  It's so easy to stand apart.  But for me, it's always better to be outside.  Waiting, watching and breathing.  Always breathing.  And sometimes writing.  Planning Elora's next scene as she saves the universe.  Maybe there's a cyborg hummingbird in my story, a miniature spy who presents to be Elora's friend?   Or a scurry of chipmunks that have grown as big as dogs.  I am inspired from the outside in.