Sitting on my back deck, hiding from the kids whose water balloons I narrowly escape while coming into the house, I take a deep breath. I smell neighbors grilling some delicious loveliness and my stomach growls to remind me I have to cook, but not just yet. I take another deep breath. It’s refreshing, even calming, the smell of rain that skipped our little neighborhood. I can see the clouds through the tops of the trees and hear a slight rumble, and I’m thankful to see it from a distance. I can smell the delightful tea olive trees that are just behind our fence, such a sweet fragrance that reminds me of my grandmother.
I close my eyes and I listen. I hear neighbors talking, but I’m not paying attention to their words. I hear dogs playing and conversing in their own right, but they aren’t too loud. I hear giggles and squeals, and I chuckle and the sounds of water balloons breaking against the concrete. I listen to the little carpenter bee trying to bore a hole into my porch and think I should take care of him, but I don’t and leave him at his work instead.
I lean my head back against the iron chair and open my eyes. The blue just overhead is so rich and welcoming. The white that I see reminds me of cotton balls and childhood. The trees are so green, so vibrant and alive as they slightly sway in the warm breeze. I catch sight of two birds dancing overhead, dipping and swirling to their own music. As I scan the backyard I watch butterflies rushing and flittering through the bushes next to the vivid orange tiger lilies. I’ve watched the lilies grow and now they finally bloom. It’s at that point, when I’m so in love with their bloom, I realize they are a reminder that it’s closer to the time when summer will end taking with it the beautiful outdoor familiarity only experienced during its season.