Day seventeen: When I was young I would spend a lot of time
studying the minutiae in life. Of course for a child none of it was minute, it
was all big.
In the wet season one year I tried to make a pond where the
roof gutter drained into the ground. There was already a hollow worn out by the
force of the water so I thought it would be easy. I gathered little weeds and
planted them at the edges of my wee pond. I collected pretty stones and used
them as decoration around my weeds and arranged them at the bottom where the
water made them look like jewels. I caught frogs, tiny green frogs to suit the
dimensions of my little ecosystem (I hated beetles and praying mantis with a
passion and big frogs were a bit scary, but I loved the tiny green frogs). The
frogs seemed to like the weeds and the water and often hung around. I searched
for bugs to feed them, and was joyous to see mosquitoes settle on the water. I
anticipated a mosquito breeding frenzy at this new water park, imagining loads
of wrigglers swimming in my pond for the frogs to eat. Then the days of rain
stopped, the sun came out and my pond drained away. I learned a lesson then
about the porous nature of the ground and how I should have lined my pond with
plastic or something similar.
I had a fascination with tiny worlds, making little
buildings out of stones and fashioning whole towns in the corners underneath
the house where it was not cemented. I peopled those little buildings with
imaginary people, or dwarves or fairies – whatever took my fancy on the day. I
made teeny fairy homes out of pebbles and leaves, and used bits of whatever I
could find to add interest to my little towns. Many years later I made similar
things out of broken pots, plants and garden ornaments.
I can remember one day lying on the ground at the back steps
for what felt like hours – and probably was – watching two snails. These
snails, common garden snails, were beautiful when viewed close up. Their shells
were not just brown but shades of gold and deep charcoal. Their bodies were
glistening, the muscle that propelled them flexing smoothly over the leaves and
grass. Their antennae would reach out delicately and if I touched one, ever so
gently, it would retract and then extend again curiously.
I watched these two snails move closer together until finally
they were side by side. Then I saw something I have never seen since. These two
snails extended what looked like an arrow attached to a thread of silk toward
each other. I have thought ever since it was like a harpoon, as each snail
impaled the other with these threads and then drew closer as though they were
being reeled in. Once against each other they rolled so their bodies were
touching. I was a country girl, I knew they were mating and I was fascinated as
it seemed – from observing that harpoon - that they were both males. Once they
finished they each undulated off, shells bobbing slightly and their snail
trails glistening in the sunlight. I carried that incident around in my head and
it wasn’t until many years later that I learned most snails are hermaphrodites,
and the harpoon was called a love dart which only one snail uses on the other -
what I saw unusual.
I learned from all of the small things I observed even
though I didn’t understand the lessons until I was older. I learned from
watching those snails and other tiny creatures; their worlds were restricted to
suit their size, and they had no notion of the people sharing their space. People
can be the same, they get so caught up in the minutiae of their own lives that
they restrict their world and fail to notice what is around them. Life becomes
narrow and grey instead of filled with the colour of everything they don’t see
any more.
There are so many things to marvel at in this world, no
matter where you live. Retain your childhood wonder at nature, keep your
curiosity strong. We are always learning, or we should be, especially now that
it is so easy. Back when I was a child I didn’t learn more about snails at the
time because there were no resources I could search. I lived in a small country
town; finding out how snails reproduce was a difficult task. Now, if I were
that child, I would have run upstairs and googled my question, then gone back
down and watched those snails with a full understanding of the terms love dart and
hermaphrodite. Would I still have retained the image of that moment, frozen in
my memory banks like a tiny gemstone? I don’t know. Maybe the new knowledge
added at the time would have fueled my curiosity even more, maybe it would have
stopped it there. We can’t go back and change things so I will never know.
I have been as guilty as the next person of restricting my
world and seeing only black and grey. Maybe more so as depression stalks me all
the time, waiting for an opportunity to tip me into the black hole. It’s taken
a conscious effort to remember what it was like to take the time to study the
small things. Take the time to smell the roses – it’s a clichéd saying but it
is a saying for a reason (as most of them are). If you take time out of your life
to appreciate the little things it helps to put colour back into your life. And
if you remember that none of us get out of this alive, that helps too.
The house on the right is where I tried to make my pond :)
My broken pot
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