Out of Line

I've been staring at my computer screen for much of the weekend, trying to figure out where the words went. I decided to take a short break and check on my Significant Other, who was doing some trimming outside. When I looked out the window, I thought I saw a white flower on the side of our shed, so I went outside to investigate. It turned out to be a reflection on a leaf, but while I was inspecting it, a robin landed nearby. The bird was bothered by my presence but it wanted that bug badly, so after indecisive hopping, it decided to take the risk and grab the bug. It then flew around the other side of the shed. I'm glad I didn't keep it from its meal.

I saw some big mushrooms in the yard, one of which had been decapitated by the trimmer's cord. It lay upside-down, a lovely circle of white with delicate lines radiating from the center. The top is an ugly gray that disguises the beauty underneath.

Some of our foliage in the back is enjoying the hot, humid weather and some isn't. One of the bushes (which sprang up of its own accord without any prompting from us) is looking a little chewed-on. The ground cover is thick and lush in one area, thin and browning in another, depending on how much direct sun it's been getting. A black dragonfly was visiting some of the weeds: a burst of movement while it flew, followed by a moment of stillness when it landed.

The whine of the trimmer stopped, so I looked up.

"I'm out of line," my husband said.

So am I! I thought. Too bad I can't run to Home Depot to get more.

Then it occurred to me: I can't run to Home Depot, but I can run to Nature. She usually provides me with something to tickle my brain and make me observe what's around me.

And that's what happened.