1.
We stood on the crushed granite trail on the hilltop gazing beyond the grass waving in the wind. Beyond the faded Bluebonnets. Beyond the explosion of orange and yellow Indian Blankets growing among the grasses. Beyond the clusters of Oaks.
Clouds floated by. The sun shined. The sky was blue.
Trudy held her face into the breeze and sighed. “We don’t get days like this very often.”
2.
The field of Indian Blankets rippled. A butterfly alighted on the lavender blossom of a thistle. She looked over at me.
“Are there tears in your eyes?”
3.
The ground was soft under the canopy of the massive Live Oak tree. As we stepped off the trail, the ground invited our footsteps.
We walked around the massive trunk and then sat down, leaning out backs against it, closing our eyes, listening to the birds in the canopy.
4.
A Scissortail was sitting on a protective fence surrounding a young tree some distance from the trail. I pointed at it. As Trudy turned and looked, it leaped into the breeze, its scissor-tail splitting and turning as it darted out across the prairie grabbing something out of the air and flying back to its perch.
5.
It’s dark outside. The wind chimes are ringing in the back. A cool breeze is blowing in thru the window over my hands on the keyboard. It’s May. That cool breeze won’t be hanging around here for long. It feels luxurious.
It is late. I stand up to crank the window shut and pull down the blind.
Trudy was right. We don’t get days like today very often.