Sitting in The Yard

At one point yesterday it was raining so hard that I could see only about 250 feet down the road that climbs westbound up the hill to meet our street. The first curve is that far away. I've paced it off, so I know. The blacktop ends right at the driveway where the Texas sage and cactus gather around the mailbox. The South end of our street is 510 feet away. That's where the big pine tree is. It's not North Georgia pine tree-sized, but it qualifies as "Big" in this part of Texas.

The 100 or so trees on our one-half acre are mostly post oaks. A pine tree wouldn't grow here if God planted it. The oaks tend to be a bit scraggly at times and the deep shade makes it a struggle for other things to grow. My wife and I have worked hard to make the backyard a nice place for the critters (dogs, birds, squirrels, lizards and possums) and us, so it's always pleasant to have my breakfast on the back porch, appreciate the view and watch what's happening for a while. But this morning I was looking at Paradise.

I didn't realize what I was seeing at first. The rain hadn't stopped until sometime last night, so everything was still pretty wet. Mud was splashed about halfway up the basketball that our Aussie Sheppard plays with. Rain water was dropping straight through the gutter down spout beside me and hitting the bottom with an regular ting ting ting - ting that cheerfully overlaid the sounds of rapidly flowing water from the fountain-fed artificial stream we built last year. The gentle breeze was bringing to me the aroma of peppermint from the small herb garden by the lower deck level. The effect was as relaxing as an expert hypnotist's voice. That's when I began to really notice things.

The shrubs along the fence to the east had exploded into bloom literally overnight. The profusion of blue flowers was striking enough, but the combined effect of raindrops and early morning sunlight was just spectacular. The wind moved the plants' limbs just enough to create a prismatic twinkling brighter than any starry night.

I heard the rush of the red tail hawk's wings only seconds before he flashed around the corner of the house, through the trees across the yard and exploded into the thick stand of bamboo that was taking over my neighbor's yard. The hidden struggle in there was noisy but brief; breakfast for the king who had allowed us to settle in his territory.

Working with rather than against what "Nature" has provided Patti and me, a real oasis of peace and beauty is slowly emerging in the back yard. The surprises like todays make the effort even more worthwhile.

Learn more about this author, Charlie Pilot.
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