Behind the Puddle

One of my favorite things about after a rain is seeing who comes back to the puddle.

Rain doesn’t necessarily make for the most pleasant day to sit outside. The grass is wet, everything feels a little damp, and sometimes the patio has to wait for the weather to decide what it is going to do next.

But the puddle changes.

It doesn’t take much. A little more water, a little more depth, and suddenly it becomes a place to visit again.

This morning the baby mallards were swimming along near the edge. The geese families came for breakfast and stayed awhile afterward, some standing in the shallow water and others simply relaxing nearby. Even the Lone Goose came back around.

Stella and Stanley haven’t visited yet, but it is still early. After a rain, I find myself watching a little more closely because I never quite know who might arrive next.

There is something I love about that.

The rain doesn’t transform the puddle into something grand. It doesn’t suddenly become a beautiful, deep lake. It is still shallow. Still muddy. Still full of silt and whatever green stuff has decided to grow across the surface this week.

It just becomes enough again.

Enough water for tiny mallards to swim instead of walk.

Enough for the geese to settle in.

Enough to make the puddle worth checking again for those who depend on what it offers.

And maybe that is one of the things I have come to appreciate most about watching this little piece of water.

Sometimes it doesn’t take a tremendous change to make something usable again.

Sometimes a few inches are enough.

Enough to return.

Enough to rest.

Enough to stay awhile.

And from my chair behind the puddle, enough to make me wonder who will stop by next.

One ordinary moment, observed behind the puddle.