more small pleasures

Simple things improve a day.

This morning I was sitting on the patio catching up on matters viral in The Economist when I noticed movement out of the corner of my left eye. A dragonfly had alit on the chair next to me -- maintaining an appropriate social distancing.

I put down my telephone and watched it watching me. Or whatever it is that dragonflies do when they are not scooping up water on my pool's surface like a miniature Douglas DC-7.

What struck me most was his coloring. Most of the dragonflies around here are of the blue and green variety. This guy was bright red with streaks of black. As if he was a ninja warrior on his time off. Maybe a sidekick in one of those dreadful Liam Neeson action movies.

The company was a nice break -- though he was not much of a conversationalist. What he was good at was sitting as still as a jeweled brooch on a dowager's lapel. Not a twitch.

My camera was sitting on the table, but I was convinced that the slightest movement on my part would send the dragonfly off on whatever his mission for the day might be. So, I edged my hand over to the camera and snapped a couple of shots. He was the perfect model. My movement did not bother him in the least.

But the light was all wrong. With the light behind him, his colors merely blended into the shadows. There were no reds, just blacks.

I stood up to move to the other side of the chair. The dragonfly did nothing.

And then I made a mistake that every photographer dreads. Instead of taking the shot, I decided to set up the flash.

For whatever reason, in that fraction of a second, the dragonfly was gone. As was the shot.

I guess is the lesson. These little grace notes of creation are to be enjoyed for their transient beauty. And enjoy it I did.

I may not have an adequate photograph to share with you, but I do have the moment, the experience, and the tale.

For a Monday morning that may be just good enough.