Summer afternoon on the porch

It's a pleasant spring evening.  I'm sitting in my favorite chair on the front porch with a beer in one hand.  A gentle breeze wafts by my face every so often.  It's neither warm nor cold and is recognized only by its subtle motion, caressing my face and arms as it passes, and stirring up a mild mix of springtime scents in its wake.  I can make out freshly mowed grass, charcoal grills and an occasional flower that I appreciate but don't recognize, maybe lilac.

There is a lot of activity around and the sounds vary from bird calls to dogs barking.  The occasional squawk of a chicken and the frustrated cry of a young child float in the air from a hidden backyard.  The cars drive up and down the road at random intervals and the sounds of laughter and conversation drift up the hill from the neighbor's yard, filling in the gaps that might other give way to a moment or two of silence.

A woodpecker is working diligently on the bark of the crab-apple tree, resting only occasionally to whistle a call.  I cannot tell if it is a call of success or frustration but he resumes the work in either case, tapping out a rhythm that varies in meter but not in tone. 

The sun is just beginning to set beyond the hills to the west which cut off the direct sunlight to the neighborhood.  The  high treetops continue reflecting the remaining sunlight on iridescent green leaves which seem to glow against the blue sky.  Two humming birds buzz by, startling me and then disappear just as I recognize their form.

The music from a nearby party gets turned up briefly and I hear Leonard Cohen singing Hallelujah, Hallelujah...   which seems utterly fitting.  Then the music gets turned back down and merges with all the other sounds, only occasionally noticeable for its contribution to the natural symphony playing out this evening.

This is the first of what I expect to be many decompression times on the porch for this season.  I'm looking forward to enjoying each of them.

Good Morning

It's a fine morning.  The sun has crested the hills to the east.  Its warmth takes the edge off the slight chill in the air. I'm sitting in an old Adirondack chair on the front porch.  I love this chair.  My parents made it for me more than 20 years ago.  The seat and back curve just right so it is comfortable without cushions.  The best part is the wide arms that make perfect platforms for a hot cup of coffee or cold beer. 

The chair's seat is wide enough for a dad and a small child to snuggle comfortably, although it hasn't served that purpose for many years.  I miss the days of squeezing in with one of the kids, cuddling up and reading a story.  The memories would certainly embarrass my son and today the girls are more inclined to sit on the the long picnic bench as they tell their stories of school and gymnastics, books and ballet, friends, teachers and on very rare and special occasions... boys.  I'm happy to sit in my chair and listen, watching their animated expressions as the light spring breeze blows a strand of long brown hair across a cherub face.  Bird songs provide background music to the stories making the experience feel like a well directed movie. I'd like to capture this movie on a DVD so, as my memory fades, I can replay it again and again but I know it would not be the same.  This time, these moments are precious, fragile and cannot be duplicated. As I listen I wonder when these children started to interact with the world so independently.  Everything I hear reinforces my confidence in their ability to make good assessments and decisions, and that is comforting . It is overwhelming to see how quickly they are growing up.  

Before I know it the the stories are done, the girls scatter and are off to their next adventure. Their laughter and giggles linger like the sent of a perfect perfume, just barely discernible in the last moments before it disappears into the air.  Then I'm alone again, with a hot cup of coffee sitting on the arm rest of my favorite chair and the morning's paper on my lap. The blessings of my life settle on me like a warm blanket and I breathe in deeply to absorb all I can.  Life is good.