Foxglove Moments

November 19, 2014

Dashing out the door yesterday morning, I was stopped in my tracks.

Up in the branches sat a magnificent owl, staring at me with an almost ethereal calm.

"Oh, wow," I whispered to him, "Don't move." I dropped my briefcase to the ground, unslung my camera from my shoulder and hurriedly removed it from its case.

This was a sign, I was sure, a sign for the day beginning. The owl was a symbol of Wisdom to the ancient Greeks...He was also a symbol of Approaching Death to the native Northwest coast peoples, but, given the choice, I was feeling partial to the Greeks at the moment.

He sat up there, calmly observing me as I fumbled with the camera and kept begging him, "Don't fly away. Please don't fly away."

And he didn't. It was as if he knew that I meant him no harm, that we were brothers in spirit and I honored his presence, that he and I were fellow creatures on this planet, both of us belonging to this hillside, equal in our right to be here, although I was the one stuck with paying the property taxes.

Or, maybe he was thinking, "This klutz can't be a threat to me. He can't fly. He can barely operate that camera--Oh, look, he's trying to take my picture with the lens cap on. How pathetic."

Anyway, I got his picture for Facebook, decided that he was a symbol of Wisdom, and then tootled off to work.