Relative Humidity

A Hidden Wonder

The oregano in full bloom had blossomed from a small plant to encompass area of over 4 feet in length by 2 feet deep. It was beyond trimming, running over the old stone border hiding even a hint of a boundary. I decided to dig it up entirely, to start over. But there was no beginning, no end point. I just delved in, pulling up the plant, roots that had woven itself into a labyrinth of an intricate system of interwoven tenacles, firmly implanted into the earth. The muscles in my arms ached as I pulled splattering the earth up into the air unearthing the worms that seemed to strive in this environment. As I pulled, piece by piece, section upon section, I carried the arm full of fragrant oregano to the pile beneath the pine tree. There I added to the mound of freshly displaced oregano, a pile that grew exceedingly larger by the minute. A burial mound of no longer connected oregano to dry beneath the summer sun. Walking back to the garden, I noticed a Toad on the ground near the remaining small patch of oregano. At first glance, I thought I had left a toad ornament from years ago, but no, in the next second I realized it was a real living toad sitting perfectly still. Was it alive? It wasn't moving. I knelt down, my knees on bare stone, I crouched over, my hands inches away from this beautiful creature. I looked closely at the toad. I could see that it was deftly camouflaged, the coloring so close to the mulch and bare earth, I was surprised I had not stepped on it. I saw the sides of the toad's body expanding in and out. Alive! It was breathing. Good, I hadn't hurt it or killed it for that matter. I moved my face closer and looked directly into its eyes rimmed with the most beautiful yellow color. I was amazed and in awe. I wanted to touch it but was afraid I would scare it even more and it would leave me. You are in shock I thought, displaced, suddenly uprooted. You are me. I am you. I was aware of my breathing, almost in sync with that of the toad's. I had no sense of time or space, month or year. Only being with the toad. My hands were on the ground, its ground that was its home and I had disturbed it without meaning. I felt bad for the poor toad, a little sad at first but then just a calm sense of being. I knew that I would stay with the toad until it moved away. It would settle for now, gain its strength and groundedness, get its bearings and move to shelter when its ready. I am the toad. Time left us, the sun's heat filtered away and the garden slipped into a backdrop. I stayed gazing in wonder at the toad until it finally lept forward to take shelter in the remaining patch of oregano.