Sometimes Lexington, Kentucky is just too darn hot to enjoy the outdoors unless you're at a pool. But when the humidity drops, it's nice to go outside. This is when I head to the deck.
On one side of the deck, a big birch tree screens our neighbor's driveway and backyard. The opposite side overlooks a beautiful garden that has flowers which bloom from early spring to fall. A row of arborvitae forms a tall green hedge against the back side of our property. In the back corner of the yard, a thirty-foot Colorado fir tree blocks out the sight of townhouses. Despite living in suburbia, our backyard is fairly private and quiet.
This afternoon, it's pleasant enough to sit outside on the deck and write at the table. I open the umbrella, scoot the plants to the side and open my notebook. These are the five senses as I sit down to write.
I see:
robins eating flaming-red seeds from cones of star magnolia trees
a small black and white flicker woodpecker climbing a pole and perching on a suet feeder
hummingbirds diving at one another and taking turns sipping from a sugar-water feeder
I feel:
a light breeze
the soft rattan-woven chair seat
the warm wooden deck beneath my feet
the smooth tile table top
the cool moist clay flower pots
I hear:
chickens (yes, my neighbor has three of them) clucking and squawking
cicadas buzzing and holding notes impossibly long
the water fountain splashing and gurgling
I taste:
warm Seattle coffee slightly sweetened
I smell:
a dampness that hangs in the air after days of rain
chicken marinated in balsamic vinegar, brown sugar and dijon mustard cooking on the grill (ahhh...supper will be ready soon)