reverie (noun): a state of dreaming while awake; a vivid mental image
On mornings when I’m feeling particularly unproductive, or mad with the world, or (most often) both, I go outside and sit on my porch with my coffee, and usually my youngest, and we just are. And I watch and listen to all the things around us just be.
I notice the choir of bees and robber flies and dragonflies and how collectively, they are quite loud.
I notice the accidental coneflowers that seeded themselves when last year’s faded blooms dove headlong from the planter on the porch into the bed below, and how the bees seem to love them most.
I feel the breeze, a cool sweet breath cutting through the humid air, and watch as tiny white crepe myrtle petals loose from the tree and drift to the ground like tiny white snowflakes. The wind chime hums a soft meditation.
Together we count the hummingbirds that visit, their vibrations announcing their arrival before our eyes can find them, and we listen for their playful squeaks.
I watch the quizzical expression on my dog’s face as the frog perched above me on the high window ledge sings, which sounds like a small dog barking.
And I watch my youngest take it all in, noticing every small thing around him.
I am amazed at just how much life can fit into such a small space - a constant thrumming, an unceasing swirl of movement, nearly invisible to the eye, imperceptible to the ear.
