No one would describe me as outdoorsy or athletic, although I happily ride a bike on the Boardwalk in OCNJ if the temperature is above forty. And it’s not raining. And there’s a fresh-squeezed lemonade in the picture. Or breakfast at Ove’s.
An outdoor activity for me is sitting on my back patio, reading. That’s where I sat this morning, these random observations both distracting and enriching my time with God:
The breeze ruffles Bible pages and my hair, not quite long enough to stay tucked behind my ear.
A bunny sneaks in and out of a hiding place beneath the shed.
Bees move methodically from purple to white flowers on the shrubs that have spread down the edge of the yard, so intertwined that the same plant seems to produce both colors.
Birds flit in and out of the neighbor's tall scraggly lilac, chirping.
I’m in Milton, not paradise. Outside my tiny yard, there are utility poles and a nightmare of old wires.
In the yard next door, my neighbor cusses. G-d d-mn this and G-d d-mn that. She usually calls down curses on the squirrels which graze at her bird feeder.
A passing car treats me to several measures of loud Spanish lyrics set to a pounding rhythm.
A few houses over in the other direction, another neighbor screeches at his rambunctious offspring.
But if I look past the churches’ parking lots, I see lush green trees, and above me a bright blue sky with white crayon clouds.
This blog is called “wit, words, and the Word.” Today, it’s just words.