The world is teeming with life and an odd sense of nostalgia today. It's a calm refreshment I haven't had in quite some time.
The sunlight bears down warm on my head as a red-headed woodpecker drills away at a far tree. Vast swathes of blue toadflux gently sway around the garden fence. One dog paces. One dog sunbathes. Another wanders up to me, his brown eyes catching brilliant light as his eyes blaze with curiosity and his tail wags placidly. A good boy.
I cannot be budged from this spot today. It's too nice out. Too kind. Too inviting.
For once, everything feels just right. Just as it should.
I take a moment to notice even the smallest of creatures as they travel — There is an ant crawling up the vibrant green stalk of my mother's pepper plant. A brown anole lizard skitters down the line of the porch with an unknown destination.
My favorite tree resides out in front of me. I don't know what it's called, but in a certain season, it provides what I lovingly refer to as helicopter flowers — these funny little red petals that will eventually rain down in spirals to scatter their seeds.
The tree has always been the subject of my admiration. So resilient and, in some way, holds a childlike whimsy. When all of its leaves have fallen, it is transformed into something Seussical. It is beautiful. It is real.
I wish all days could know this peace.
It's nice for how ever long it lasts.
