On the blue wall beside my desk, I catch the glimpse of a flickering shadow, the ghost of an image. 
Hummingbirds coming to feed just on the other side of the front door.
I don’t turn. I know that even the slowest of quiet movements will send them away. Instead, I watch their shadows dance against the wall, gift themselves, these opaque glimmerings.
Today, I will mow the grass and revel in the life I pass, mostly in shadow. A rabbit’s tail as it darts into brambles. The line of the black snake just below the wood pile. Scat from a deer who left at dawn.
Sometimes, I do not get to marvel directly, but sometimes shadows are gift enough to remind me of my blessedness and of the sacred grace living in this place.