Touching Heaven

My Take

DiVoran Lites

We have a friend who calls himself a hedonist. I think that means pleasure seeker. I suppose I must be one too. It’s certainly a pleasure in the afternoon after my nap to brew a cup of coffee (with dark chocolate powder added), cut a California navel into triangular slices and take a book to the back porch to read.

Spring days are so fantastic. When I finished my refreshments, I put my book down to just sit and be for a while. Almost immediately, I became aware of what was going on around me. Everything I heard and saw seemed sharp and clear.

I heard:

hammering as if someone were putting on a new roof.

a rooster crowing

an airplane humming over,

our calico cat chattering at a green anole lizard on the screen

a cardinal too-too-tooted his spring song.

Then the AC came on and I couldn’t hear anything else. Civilization encroaching, thank the Lord for it!

As I looked around the yard, I saw:

yellow, orange and purple flowers, swaying against the fence

dried weeds on the other side that looked like fluffy ostrich feathers,

a brand new sunflower seeking the sun,

Close up I spied a:

pothos growing in a pot

cat in a basket

Chinese Tallow tree, with Florida ferns growing under it,

green garden wagon with balloon tires (one is flat),

stool made from an overturned porcelain pot with a red rubber stepping stone for a seat.

Closer yet:

I touched the binoculars,

picked up the napkin basket,

fingered the salt shaker,

smelled the orange peels on a small white plate,

moved the driftwood I use for a book prop,

and smoothed my hand over the slick cover of the large print book.

Does all that make me a hedonist? See how self-indulgent I am? I not only took the time to jot all that down, I enticed you to take the time to read it too, (I hope). If yes, thank you. Your company pleases me very much.

Tags: #amwriting, Hedonist, Observing