Now I know why my thoughts have dried up so much that I haven't been able to write for the last, oh, one day in a row. It's because I haven't had a chance to water my garden all week. Somehow the act of irrigation generates little acts of imagination. Watering begets wisdom. The hose knows. Oh, I could go on and on. Don't try to stop me.

While watering today, I had two thoughts. (Actually, I had five, but the other, uh, three have already slipped away. So you get two.)

First, I really need to get rid of the big, ugly weed growing behind the camellia bush. It's not the only weed I need to get rid of, but it's the biggest and ugliest. The trouble is that I only see it when I'm watering. It's not that it's hidden from view, just that when I walk out on my back porch I see the bush but not the weed behind it. I don't usually approach it from the other side except when I'm watering.

The rest of the time, a stranger is more likely to take note of the bigness and ugliness than I am. I don't get that many strangers out here, but that isn't really the point. Or is it? I dunno.

My other thought (and this one is no more profound than the first, but probably more profound than the three I forgot) was that I really, truly appreciate the plants in my yard that don't require a lot of attention. I know that sounds like another example of my laziness, but it's really not. (Or is it? I dunno.)

When things grow without needing me to baby them, it gives me more time to nurture the ones that do need closer supervision. I doubt that I'd have been able to keep alive the garden plot that someone planted for me if it weren't for the benign neglect I can give the— well, I actually have no idea what anything is called, but that doesn't make me appreciate it any less.

I suppose there's a life lesson to be drawn from all this rambling reflection, but clues have been elusive these last few days. I can't put two and two together and make a sandwich, much less four (or whatever). I do seem to be coming out of it, but I have to hope I can ride the wave all the way to the beach instead of getting swept back out again.

Oh! I thought of something else that crossed my mind. I love the bushtits. By coincidence a flock of these tiny birds arrived in my garden just after I started watering. And they didn't fly away! They didn't land on my shoulder and twitter in my ear, which is one of my fantasies. But they hung around, and a few even lit on branches close enough to where I was standing that I could have carried on an extended conversation with them. And did. I love these wee, fearless creatures.