Fred kitten zips around. His 6 month old brain says that it’s morning and morning means it’s a great time to tease Saia kitty. One busy junior striped tiger taunting an older tiger. On another morning the sight might make me laugh. Oh that Saia can growl and hiss.

My human brain notes the passing of summer. The days cool though sunshine solders on, the rumor of rain sneaking in every so often. Canada geese curve toward the water way below the property. Finches and sparrows vie for a spot at the seeding sunflower heads.

The absurdity of it all. Just an afternoon ago I headed toward the hen’s enclosure, thinking about my waiting supper as I worked through the chore of doling out snacks. A small, deeply orange butterfly skittered past my face. I remarked on its passage to my hubby then said duh! Wake up, lady. I’d planted a butterfly bush down the row toward the driveway. Its lavender cones had at last decided to bloom. Of course there was a butterfly about. Whether I observe life bebopping around is up to me in my insular castle.

My busy brain also chases back to when Mom was young. I was a goofy kid then. The church bells rang, demanding that we all pay attention. Mom had eight kids to herd, though I mostly remember growing up with just two brothers cause I was the youngest. Three of my sisters were teens by the time I was ten and hearing those pealing bells, there in that large midwestern city. Sunshine then and sidewalks that led to dark robed nuns and priests. Now its Sunday morning sun and birds and dogs that chase busy kittens. Those bells could be still waking the universe but I am too far from them to hear.