View from the Porch

Sunday afternoon, the Booglet sleeping in her bed snuggling with her favorite blankie. A southeast wind is blowing and the sun is cooking things up to a gourmet 68 degrees.

[Lord of the wasps, I killed four of your people. I know, I know. Hey! No…no...no, remember me last time telling you to stay off the porch? No, don’t give me that instinct crap, your subjects know exactly what they’re doing. What do you mean double standard? Oh, the carpenter bee. Well, he just hovers and buzzes. I have never been stung by a carpenter bee. I have been stung by one of your subjects. No, I don’t think it was an accident. Well listen, I don’t want things to get any nastier okay? You’ve been warned. Further construction or even suspicious loitering will be considered a capital offense.]

Seriously, the weather is a foretaste of spring today. I’m getting in some much needed porch time before leaving again tomorrow for another three days. The bay is stirring with the scrubbing of a fresh wind, not to white caps but moving with a purpose. The mourning doves are acting like a cheap x-rated movie so I guess there will be a good crop in a few more weeks. Stupid birds they are, but good food for the traveling raptors. Even now the osprey are patrolling the shoreline, surfing the breeze like airborne sentries. Good thing for you guys they just like fish.

Chester lifts his head occasionally from his nap to growl at imaginary monsters. The purple martins gurgle their unique sounds while ferrying bits of material to furnish the tiny condos we set up. The sun beams down on us all and the little seeds Daddy and the Booglet planted in their trays yesterday are stirring to sprouthood. Later we’ll put them in the garden, tilled now like an earthen blanket waiting to nurture our summer vegetables, and watch them grow. You watch them my dear little one, and I’ll be watching you as you grow. It’s become my favorite thing to do—besides tickle bug of course…