I’m entering what I term the exquisite season.
I spend hours in the garden now, soaking up the sun while listening to the orioles flit around the apple blossoms. Their orange and yellow feathers astound me. If it wasn’t enough, the red breasted grosbeak has returned, as well as an indigo bunting whose colors dazzle against the white.
My hummers buzz and click around me, chasing the besieged female while the cardinal couple prepares their nest.
I listen to the bees dive into the luscious purple lilacs and admire their absolute devotion (did you know that a bee will produce only a 1/2 teaspoon of honey in her lifetime? So much work for such a little creature).
I stumble on the ant hill — every year without fail — and wonder why the ground is so soft before I realize what I’ve done. I watch as the girls scurry to reconstruct while cursing the stupid human above them.
I watch the clouds pass over the maple. She’s either 150 or 200 years old, depending on who you ask. It would take 4 humans to circle her trunk.
I hear the river in my sleep and watch as it tumbles along while I give a session.
This is Nature in her evolving perfection. I could easily die and wake in a paradise similar to this. The same thing happened on the beach last week. I took a long walk and laid back on the sand for a few moments. When I rose up, the light on the water flickered through my polarized lenses and it felt as thought I was in a different world — I could have died for all I knew — but then a woman passed on her phone and I thought, Yah, not quite paradise.
Maybe it’s as easy as that. You wake from one perfection to the next.
I won’t live in this home forever — I merely see it as the template for what I’m about the create next. Yet it’s not exclusive to where I live or the privacy it affords. Nature gives this beauty to everyone everywhere, if we are awake enough to notice.