"“This is the day the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” Psalm 118:24."
One need not be of the Judaeo-Christian persuasion to understand the upwelling of delight some days can bring, even here, in this pandemic-ridden, swamp-filled , angst-infested year of 2020. I'm sitting in front of my house, on a chair I built myself (patterned after an Aldo Leopold bench), under a red oak tree whose leaves have only started to think of turning deep red, which is good, because once they get serious about it they will carpet the lawn and keep me busy for a long time.
Right now the only trees seriously losing leaves are the birches, fine little yellow leaves that come down in occasional flurries and for the most part are swept away by the wind. It's 70 degrees farenheit, the aforementioned wind rises and falls, reaching never further than a serious and friendly breeze. Rare sounds of songbirds right now, they're probably mostly resting from their busy morning and preparing for a busy afternoon. A small murder of crows came through earlier, making their usual ruckus. The only other sounds are the breeze and rustle and rattle of leaves, and the distant, ever-present murmur of city life.
The sky is a cliched bright and clear blue.
Things are still mostly green at ground level, the grass in the lawn is as good as it ever gets, right in front of me I see my spreading ground cover plants (you'd think after a few years of growing them I'd remember the name) are bright and succulent green. The tree they surround is itself surrounded by ring of rock, which I kind of mostly salvaged from a construction dump site, a few bucketsful at a time. Each rock is, if not familiar, at least recognizable, though I'm always discovering new attributes, patterns, and colors, especially after a rain. Beside me is my large gray basalt boulder, which a kindly utility foreman had dropped off in my yard when they dug it up while installing underground cables. It has a nice flat space atop the nearest end, within easy reach, which right now holds today's mail (all junk) that the mailman handed me as he walked by, after we exchanged pleasantries.
It's a wonderful little bubble I find myself in, and whether it's a manufactured day or a natural manifestation of Tao in the world, I'm grateful to experience it. And that feels good. Gives me hope.
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