What draws my attention this August morning is the light in my garden – the tall stems that miraculously held the beautiful iris flower, even 2 or 3 to a stem in the month of May, have been standing stark naked all summer, but now zillions of small white escargots are clinging to each stem, bringing light back into the alley of irises – my garden is now a shell garden. It is as if snow has come in August – lacelike and beautiful, intricate and divine. Just as I contemplate this phenomenon, a leaf comes scratching across the surface of the terrace, making quite a racket of noise. Then, the call – the call of a bird announcing its arrival – it sounds like a duck.” Is it going to present itself”, I ask? “Come, let me see you”. It calls again and in moments it is here overhead flying with purpose to somewhere. So too, I must get to the task of my day- painting. I am present in the mysterious cosmic dance. This morning’s gift has been received.