Standing
Like an old dog, I stood in the sun yesterday and did nothing. Three times. The first time was by the mesquite along the back fence. I hung the bird feeder, then I stood there. The sun felt good on my shoulders. One by one the little birds showed up, adorning the mesquite’s branches, until it looked like a Christmas tree with bird ornaments, finches and wrens and a titmouse or two. Several came down to the feeder, right by me. The rest remained suspicious.
The second time was in the afternoon by the peach tree. I was investigating the flowers. The tree is big, so I was standing right among them. No birds, just bees. Lots of bees. They were unconcerned about the humanoid. They simply went from flower to flower to flower collecting the pollen for their honey-making endeavors. And I stood there again bathed in pink and watched them and thought of the fruit that might arise and how sweet it will taste this summer.
Then I went inside, but not for long. These are the days of spring with cool mornings and warm afternoons, and I’ve been sitting more than I should lately, so I returned to the outdoors, to stand in the yard and look around. As I did, I thought it a little sad that I had no one with which to share it. When my wife was still with us, we’d often walk together and look at the things we’d planted and the gardens we’d dug and talk about what we might like to do and what we’d done. But only memories walk with me now and the gardens feel a lonesome place even in the warmth of the sun.