For Jason

Well, it’s Sunday afternoon here in the heart of the South and while most folks are inside their homes or local potable distributors establishment drinking overpriced beverages and eating overpriced food, watching their favorite football team or race car driver, I find myself sitting on my porch swing smoking a Gurkha and enjoying Mother Nature in all her splendid Autumnal forms.

Occasionally over the tree tops I glimpse a flash of lightning only to wait to hear the wonderful bass notes of the thunder that I know is soon to follow. I listen to the variety of notes the rain makes as it strikes the trees branches and leaves, occasionally sending one of the dying embers of fall to the ground, only so that it can be renewed next spring. I hear the symphony of the puddles in the street clashing against the sound coming off the roof of my car, as well as the hollow tiny sound the rain makes against the littered can of soda pop lying by the curb.

I hear a lone bird call out to its mate only to receive no reply, then, I see the source of the sound, a robin who is sitting in my neighbor’s tree. He is soaking wet and oblivious to the oncoming three day storm. As I sit here and watch him, he dives down to the yard and scoops up a worm, looks at me quizzically and flies off as if he is afraid I am going to steal his new found supper.

I glance over my shoulder, through my living room windows and I can see there is a football game on the television and the glow of the candle that is burning on the mantle is casting shadows around the magic box like an alter to some modern god of consumerism. It seems almost tranquil in there between the clashes of human flesh wrapped in plastic only to have the soft earth catch the gladiators as they fall. They get up and do it all over again while thousands of people across America scream for Blue or for Red. (Dang, my shrink will have a field day with that last comparison of finding tranquility in televised violence.)

I hear the robin again; he is back and sitting on the telephone wires, looking greedily at the wet ground in hopes of another meal. And, he has brought some friends. Unfortunately for him it seems the neighbor’s cat from across the street is hiding next to their garage looking for a meal too. This is gonna be interesting.

I have come to look forward to my time here on my porch swing. The time it affords me to sort through my thoughts, replay conversations in my mind, think about my friends and what they may be doing right now. I know that if I sign on to the internet I can catch up with everything they are doing in their busy lives. But right now, I really don’t want to. I have wrapped myself into a comforting bubble of peace and introspective thought.

The current rain storm is slowing down now, the gutters are slowly emptying themselves into the earth and the world is wrapped in a blue-gray glow. The symphony of Mother Nature is winding down and taking a breather before her next act of awe inspiring greatness. The bones of the trees are starting to show and the late season blossoms have been fed. More birds are calling out to each other now and a few squirrels have started chasing each other over territorial rights I will never fully understand. The neighbor’s cat seems to have inched his way closer to the birds that are feeding in the yard and neither species seems too concerned with my presence or the presence of my cigar.

Well, I am gonna sign off now. You all have a good week and I think I will dedicate this Blog to my Nephew Jason because I am sure he would like to enjoy just a moment or two of today’s wonders.