It’s 3 o’clock in the afternoon and I’m sitting outside under the dogwood tree. It’s been weeks since I’ve pulled out my cushion and sat in the Adirondack lounger my husband made me last year. The sky is blue. Wind rustles the dry Karl Foerster grass next to me, the lemon balm, the dogwood leaves. A grasshopper just leapt out of the columbine and landed on the foot of my chair. It’s walking towards me. It’s buggy eyes are trained on mine. I hope it doesn’t jump.
I can’t concentrate for fear it will leap at my face. Writing on my lap is a challenge now because I had to stop using my left hand to keep my journal in place — I have to use it now to hold my book up as a shield. My journal slides around as my right hand tries to scribble in it. I peek over my book and the grasshopper is still staring straight at me, like it will leap any second, and even though I know it might jump, I know I will still squeal and drop my pen and bat at my face if it does. Ooh! It’s turning. Slowly. Away. And now it has sprung into the Karl Foerster grass.
The breeze feels good on the hairs behind my ears. And on my toes. I hear frogs and crickets and the soft shushing of leaves. My mums and asters look lovely in their bronzy deep red and bright October purple. End of summer bumble bees and honey bees buzz around and land on them. My husband and daughter just called out from the driveway that they’re going to get Boba and wonder if I want any. I do. They will bring it back; I don’t have to get up.
Sunlight slants through the dogwood leaves and into my right eye. The leaves aren’t as full as they were midsummer. They’ve shrunk a little and are coppery red with green spines. Sunshine glints off the rim of the glazed bird bath. The wind has died here, but I hear it ripple through the tall trees across the street, and now it has arrived. I feel a breeze on my shoulder. Little skippers dart among the flowers. The air is filled with crickets chirping. A suet cake dangles from a dogwood limb, under the canopy of autumn red and green leaves. The tree has made bright red ovoid berries. The sun is still in my eye, but it’s not too bad, it’s October.
Butterfly Mind 