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| a garden whimsy |
I take a deep breath. There's nothing like the air
in my garden first thing in the morning after the rain. It should be
bottled. There would be no more desire for everyday perfumes. A whiff of
damp soil, a touch of the garden's humid breath. The flowers exhale after a
storm, releasing tendrils of scent to be carried in the gentle funnels of
freshness, felt as you just stand there.
The birds, of course, take all this magic in their stride. Although there's a certain lilt to their voices as they take advantage of the bounty temporarily available to them. Unabashed, they glide down to land inches from my perch on the stoop, and cock their heads, listening for a worm now close to the surface but invisible to me. Then a stab and a yank! One more hapless worm pulled unwillingly from its precarious shelter, it's only defense to stretch like an elastic, snapping out of the ground with a pop.
Babies in nests throughout the garden can be heard gorging on the after-rain treats, "cheep, cheep, more, more!!!"
I spy little reservoirs of rain supplying all and sundry with precious summer water. In sheltering flowers all manner of bugs are gauging whether it's safe to leave, wary of the crushing droplets in the rain.
One more deep breath before I get back to my guests' breakfast, so clutching my bounty of edible flowers, I will reluctantly leave my magical moment.
The birds, of course, take all this magic in their stride. Although there's a certain lilt to their voices as they take advantage of the bounty temporarily available to them. Unabashed, they glide down to land inches from my perch on the stoop, and cock their heads, listening for a worm now close to the surface but invisible to me. Then a stab and a yank! One more hapless worm pulled unwillingly from its precarious shelter, it's only defense to stretch like an elastic, snapping out of the ground with a pop.
Babies in nests throughout the garden can be heard gorging on the after-rain treats, "cheep, cheep, more, more!!!"
I spy little reservoirs of rain supplying all and sundry with precious summer water. In sheltering flowers all manner of bugs are gauging whether it's safe to leave, wary of the crushing droplets in the rain.
One more deep breath before I get back to my guests' breakfast, so clutching my bounty of edible flowers, I will reluctantly leave my magical moment.
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| bugs' summer watering holes |
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| bug taking shelter |
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| lily with water drops |
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