The Naturalist

Lately it has been cool and dry enough to throw open the windows and door. Yesterday I worked on the deck in the late afternoon light, feeling that perfect balance of temperature and air weight that makes humans feel content, at home in the world.

Other creatures were out there with me. The crickets chirped, their music blending with the tinnitus that has become so much a part of my background noise that I seldom notice it anymore. The hummingbirds sparred and fed. Copper wandered in and out the open door. A squirrel landed on a branch of our neighbor's tree, bending it with his tiny weight.

I was thinking the other day that working at home may turn me into a naturalist. Working outside, taking breaks in the woods instead of at the water cooler — for these reasons and many others I've gotten on myself for not knowing more about the trees I see, even the weeds I pull. 

For now, there's little time for this ... but when the impulse is there, the action may follow. Or at least that's what I hope.