This is

Posted by kc on April 29, 2014 in Treatise |

As I write this, I am sitting outside. The thick canopy of trees in my yard shades me from the brilliant sun. Between the branches with their leaves a million shades of green, I see the steady, all-encompassing blue of the sky. A neighbor is cleaning gutters. I hear the clanging of the ladder as she moves it around her house. Someone is playing a radio, not near enough for me to make out the channel. Road traffic underscores the constant singing of dozens of songbirds. Somewhere, there is construction of some kind, because I can hear the distant hum of heavy machinery. Closer to me is the babble of the waterfall in my pond. A mourning dove takes flight, her wings whistling as she flies from one branch to another. Insects are investigating the early spring flowers. A jet’s roar momentarily cuts through the other sounds and then is gone. Kyoko the cat from across the street has been by for a quick visit, as has a hawk who, I suspect, may have been thinking to check out the frogs in the pond. A soft breeze plays through the Siberian irises, where one bud is already on the verge of bloom. Across the street, a thick stand of bamboo sways in the gentle wind.

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These things I know, now, at this moment. My senses are engaged with the living world around me. I don’t know, nor do I care, how it came to be here, only that it is. And it is perfect. Good. Right.

Nothing else exists. And none of it is permanent.

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  • Eileen says:

    What scents are there?

  • kc says:

    Ah, I missed those … I’m horrible at identifying specific smells, but the ones I recognized mostly came from the pond — the decay and earthiness in the bog part. All day that day I smelled wood burning too. I’m not sure where it was from. There is a neighbor who heats by wood, and I can smell it all through winter, but it was far too warm for that. Nothing much on the flower front. The azaleas and irises were too far away and the roses and Siberian irises have yet to bloom.

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