Morning Under the Myrtles

   On those mornings not committed to my certification class I can be found in the back yard under the myrtles. Coffee in hand, my seat is an iron table and chairs once belonging to my mother. Notebook, camera, and a steamy cup accompany me to this special place. Here I soak up the scents and sounds of the homestead..always joined by my curious four legged ones.
   This is my place for studying- these days there is a lot of studying going on. Notes and lists are jotted down- all those things my attention seems to forget. Outlines are scribbled to organize the random thoughts swirling around in my head. Here and there a design is sketched for that upcoming project that 'appeared' to me as I gazed at the sky.
   From here I see the kitchen window where the farm boy sits doing some studying of his own. Chickens scratch the far garden beds digging grubs and nasty weedlings. The turkeys stand at their fence waiting for me to come near- their occasional gobble gets my attention..they miss me. Doc saunters over to give me a nudge..I can't manage a thing without this crazy donkey..he keeps me on my toes while the goats snitch a paper from my table..Ruth believes she is my editor and must destroy this latest blasphemy. All to quickly they move on to the nearby garden currently open for their grazing. Clover and cabbage stalks are much more interesting than my dribble.
   What comes from these mornings under the myrtles? Direction and focus. Here thoughts take shape and become progress. Sighs become prayers that lighten burdens. Love comes when a teen happens over with half an orange to share..or when a goat nibble becomes a kiss on the elbow. As I sit here nature is observed while notes and sketches from lectures come to life; woods behind me are filled with interesting live specimens.
     The sun shifts just in time for my chapter to end; the coffee is empty and the herd has moved on. Time to put feet to my plans. This beautiful time is over for now..but in a few days I will find it again and spend those precious few moments out here gazing and dreaming under the myrtles.


***these crepe myrtles were planted by my parents when they lived here..they are dormant and bare now, but summer sun will once again find them full of bring fushia blooms..a color I would never have chosen, but one that depicts her style and taste so clearly. One of my girls, when she was little, always called them 'cranky mables'. These tidbits make them precious to me..a treasure in my own backyard.