The sun is shining this morning, and again from my back porch the world looks clean and bright from the good heavy rain that came last evening, without tornadoes.
I see there was some washing away of soil on the south lawn. I must see what kind of grass seed to put there, or maybe some more Bermuda grass would do, although it is pretty shady over there.
A little squirrel is in the walnut tree just outside my west window. He is scolding someone of the animal family just beyond my vision. I find little piles of walnuts here and there on the yard where the squirrels have dropped them, no doubt thinking, like people, that they will get them later.
That reminds me of our beloved little Boots, a black cocker spaniel. When we would have a cook out on the lawn, he would give us no peace until we would give him an ice cube. Then he would go to the spirea hedge and bury it. The next time we were outside, he would try to find it. He would go to the exact spot and dig, but of course by that time the ice cube had melted and was no longer to be found.
You could just see that “what-the-heck” look on his face when he could not find it.
Boots, like the rest of my family, is not here now. They only come once in a while as they all have their homes and families that keep them busy. And that’s as it should be. I’m happy for them.
Just now I see a robin red breast sunning himself in a spot of sunlight on the lawn. He turns first one side and then the other, raising each wing in order for the warmth to reach his body.
I always take my pencil and tablet with me to the porch, for there is always something going on outside that is interesting, either my neighbors or nature’s family. I see a lot from my back porch, mostly good.
This essay was written by my grandmother, Lucile Ann Bigler, more than half a century ago. It was found, undated, in a small box of her manuscripts. Date is 1960-something.