rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


There is now shade from which to enjoy the balmy afternoons, courtesy of the increasingly dense foliage of the fruitless mulberry tree. I can sit and watch the sun glint from the fluttering wings of the tiny insects who have suddenly grown abundant. There is much fluttering of leaves, too, when the soft breezes rise, which is usually about the time the sun begins its descent toward the pine woods, and the slanting light catches on strands of fresh spider silk that drift like long, thin banners from bushes and posts. Bees visit the purple blossoms of the sourgrass, and a hummingbird hovers before one of the last camellias. As evening nears and the air begins to cool, someone up the block begins to mow their lawn and the scent of cut grass permeates the air. With dusk's arrival, I hear sprinklers starting to water the apple orchard. Spring has finally become its familiar self.

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