In the pens, we are having a bit of a battle of wills.
Bow keeps gesturing to me that he wants me to give him my hand, and I keep telling him that he can spell by himself. I want things to change, and he wants everything to remain exactly the same.
When you are in a state of equilibrium, sometimes you don't notice when a major status changing crisis is right around the corner. Things seem the same day after day.
The wildflowers in the woods are blossoming, and in the unmown lawn what look like tiny, miniature irises are springing up.
Soon the mowers will come, and this flower will be no more, and the entire state of equilibrium that it was counting on to grow will be gone. Things may seem like a steady state, but there are cycles that come and go.
When something cataclysmic is about to happen to us, we don't always know. It may seem to come out of nowhere, but there are usually signs.
The ants have been on patrol for three days and counting on the peony by the lagoon.
They have not harmed the flower head, but they clearly have some objective in mind, something not known to me.
Bow is not angry with me, and I am not angry with him. We just each want something different. To try to cajole me, he picks up tiny specks of dust and hair from the corners of his pen and throws them into the potty. See, he seems to be saying, I am keeping it tidy. I am good. But still I will not give him my hand to use as a pointer. So he takes it and grooms it, instead,
Then he takes my hand and leads me to the letters on the glass. "But I want you to spell by yourself, Bow!" I slip out from his grasp. "Write 'give' by yourself," I tell him. In Hebrew, when Bow is speaking to me, it is just a three letter word תני. He spells it many times each day, when he is requesting things. But always he uses my hand as a pointer.
I try to bargain with him, just as he earlier tried to bargain with me. "If you spell 'give' by yourself, I will let you use my hand for the rest of the sentence." But he is not swayed.
He keeps offering me his hand, but when I ask him to spell by himself, he turns away.
We can go on like this for hours. Nobody gets angry, but the status quo will not change.
It's a delicate equilibrium, but eventually something has got to give.
Just on the edge of the woods, where the lawn meets the trees, the delicate clover flowers sway in the breeze. Their life seems the same every day, but one day the mowers will come.
Just inside the woods, where it is no longer lawn, the cypress spurge is blooming. They say it is an invasive, and it grows in transition areas, that are neither fully wooded nor fully open. The balance of woods and fields on my land is changing. While it may seem that everything is always the same with me and Bow, that is also a delicate balance. Someday the status quo may change, and we might have our next big breakthrough.
You never know when a delicate flower is about to push up from the ground and bloom, not because you planted it yourself, but just because the seeds were there.
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