By Robin Volker

It is a perfect summer evening. I sit on my deck, enjoying nature all around me.  Two white butterflies catch my eye as they chase each other across the yard, their dance some sort of courtship ritual.  A chipmunk barks in the tall oak tree.  I don't know if he is singing or complaining, but I wonder if his throat gets sore from making so much noise.  The raccoons had pulled down the bird feeder last night, spilling the seed all over the ground and bending the shepherd's hook.   Although I had rescued the seed and righted the feeder, only a few birds are interested in it today.   Among the few visitors to the hanging buffet is a papa cardinal, his feathers brilliant red.  He doesn't seem to mind the solitude of his private snack and pecks and scratches with enthusiasm, searching for his favorite seed.

The wind chimes ding softly in the background as the southerly breeze blows through the mature shade trees.   Today the sky is almost a turquoise blue with a few white wispy clouds appearing like brush strokes against the vibrant canvas.    When the breeze quickens a little, the chimes begin a new song.  It is easy to get lost in the sights and sounds of summer.

A fat bumble bee visits a blossom on the Rose of Sharon.  Have you ever wondered how a bumble bee flies?   Its body is too big for its wings, but it defies all laws of physics and flies around, happily gathering pollen from every beautiful flower it sees. 

A neighbor's cat stops by to say "hi" and to ask for a rub across the ears.   Spike wears a coat the color of gun-metal gray.   He is a big tom, strong and confident.  He rolls and flops on the deck floor, stretching this way and that way, inviting a pat, but always on his terms.   He is the king cat around here, and he knows it.  He knows I know, too, so he plays me like a fiddle, giving me just enough cat-love to keep me interested and then off he goes to taunt some other neighbor with his finicky feline behavior. 

The setting sun turns the white, brush-stroked clouds a radiant shade of pink.  The day is almost done.  The chipmunk finishes his long exhortation, climbs down out of old oak tree, and nibbles on the spilled bird seed.  It has been a beautiful, lazy evening.  I sit here, enjoying nature in my back yard, and reflecting - the only thing missing in this moment of pure pleasure is you.   I wish you were here to enjoy the butterflies, the birds, the bee, the sky, the clouds, the chipmunk, the flowers, Spike, and a glass of sweet tea with me.

Enjoy the moment,
Rev. Robin