1. Morning
On the way to work, I stopped to sit beside the pool. To watch the fish slowly circle and blow bubbles on the still surface of the water. I stopped to contemplate the Lily Pads. The white blossoms. The peach-colored blossoms.
I set my laptop case on the table. And my cucumber snack for later. It was muggy from the wonderful two days’ rain. Sweat was rolling down my chest, soaking my shirt.
I turned and sat on the bench and fixed my gaze on the Lily Pads and the circling fish and the dragon flies.
And then I saw a woman at the table over there. I hadn’t noticed her when I approached. She had a cigarette between her fingers and held a lighter in the other hand.
I gathered my things, stood up and walked away.
2. Evening
We sat outside, the dog and I. She was wining and pulling on her rope, because the fair and industrious Trudy had just disappeared down the street on a walk with Mr. Guinness, her rival.
After a while, she returned to her bone, and the quiet returned.
In the distance, frogs were singing. And certainly somewhere nearby our toad must have been hopping in the muggy air thick from the wonderful three days’ rain. Screech Owls hooted in the back and somewhere in the distance a Lesser Goldfinch.
The sun was going down and setting the clouds aglow. The greens of the trees were deep. The browns of the mulch was golden. The white of our limestone walls had a pinkish hue.
Our trees in Austin, those that made it thru last year’s fearsome drought, have been saved by this rain. Three glorious inches over three days. Three inches in mid July. More than we could have dared ask for.
It was getting dark around me. The mosquitos were beginning to buzz.
I gathered my dog, stood up and walked into the house.