The lake is perfectly still, except for tiny silver streaks where water creatures break the mirrored surface. Now and then, something that had been sun-bathing leaps back into the water for a swim. Circles ripple outward until they reach the shore, where the reflected beams of light dance into the canopy of leaves above. Across from me, the grassy bank and the hill beyond are so heavily covered with dew that in the early morning sunshine, they glisten almost like snow.
Birds call: a mourning dove, a cardinal, quail, a faraway crow. A beetle scurries across the patio, headed home to the dark, cool mulch between the stones in the adjacent planted area. The hosts' deep-toned wind chime sounds like distant church bells, calling me to worship.
Later, in the "Lost Boys' Hideout," I sit on one of stumps encircling that shady spot and let the breeze dry my damp face. A huge buzzing insect of some kind comes to investigate but decides that I'm not good to eat. (Too much Off ® !) A few tall stems of grass, backlit by the sun, glow a translucent green, and seedling evergreens, only an inch high, reach for the life-giving light. The tall trees around me raise their leafy arms in the breeze, breathing in so gently, then lowering their boughs, breathing out. They breathe in, they breathe out. After awhile, since no one is watching, I breathe too: up and in very gently, down and outward just as gently—inhaling stillness as well as air.
Such beauty and peace! I am grateful.
MaryMartha
--Especially for R and R, http://www.prairieoasis.com/
and for M who loves the beautiful P.O. as much as I do.
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