The birds are calling from the branches of the oak trees and the maple. Flamboyant melodies respond from deep within the blue spruce and their protective fortress of needles and cones. At times I wonder if they are speaking to one another or simply talking over each other. Regardless their voices blend perfectly.
Three tiny white butterflies land upon the snapdragons. I am always amazed that they are able to find their targets so accurately with such a swaying, intoxicated approach. The little white butterflies seem to be out in numbers this year. . . . I wonder what they are called?
Our terrier mix rolls in the grass and clover, just beyond our zucchini and cucumber patch, while our senior beagle sits like a statue trying to soak up the summer sun.
I can hear the wind cutting through the bamboo just before it gains enough momentum to stride across the lawn and playfully brush against the solemn chimes hanging from the branch on the apple tree and those suspended above Meghann's herb garden.
Liam and Sophia are deep within a world of fantasy, free to run through the grass with bare feet and their vivid imaginations.
I rarely take the time to simply sit on the rock wall by the vegetable patch and enjoy the garden as the beautiful sanctuary that it is. Surrounded by sweet pea vines and adolescent stalks of corn and sunflower it is easy to let your mind wander. I can hear the hurried wings of an insect darting through the bush beans in contrast to the low hummmm of a bumblebee who is migrating over the red cabbage. There is a state of tranquility to be found within the movement of natures subtle symphony.