May 30, 2024
Soup Kitchen
We woke up feeling rested, and after we fed the dogs, we sat down on the couch with a fresh cup of coffee. When my wife left for work, I noticed her car had no condensation, signaling the humidity had dropped. It was going to be a beautiful day.
I sat down at my desk with a second cup of coffee, looking out my window at a herd of deer feeding in the pasture. This morning’s writing session lasted for an hour and a half. Once finished, I changed clothes and went into the woods.
The morning air felt fresh, and I could hear the faint hum of cicadas in the forest. It was cool out, and even though I was wearing a hoodie, the woods felt cold on my hands and face. The sensation reminded me of fall, and I wanted to hang onto it throughout the day.
I moved through the forest slowly, looking for patches of light that penetrated the dense canopy. In these lit areas, I photographed interesting patterns and backlit leaves, using the natural lighting that gave a unique characteristic to the otherwise mundane scenes.
At the creek, I noticed I couldn’t hear the water in the southern stream flowing. Either something had blocked the water or the levels had dropped. While posted at the creek’s edge, I waited for any wildlife moving through the area, noting deer tracks that traversed the water and signs of turtles moving over the bank. A hawk flew by, moving east, its face lit perfectly by the soft light of the rising sun. It cried out three times.
On my way back to the house, I receive a call from work, taking care of business as I walked through the grove. As soon as I walked into my house, my boss contacted me about the same matter. It was the start of a busy day of gathering and reporting information up my chain of command. I missed my lunch break, and only left the house for ten minutes when I went to drop off the trash and check the mail.
Throughout the day, deer crossed back and forth through the pasture from one tree line to the other. When my wife arrived at the house, I was just finishing up work. She had an equally busy day, and we both sat outside on the back porch feeling exhausted. She told me about her day and the pressure she felt and how odd some people were. I shared everything I had going on and told her about some tough news I received today.
We opened a single beer and sat outside talking, deciding that we wouldn’t worry about making any kind of formal dinner. We wanted to relax and let the day go, easing back into nature’s pace as we sat outside together.
The evening weather was clear, and the sun shone with mostly blue sky. There was a cool breeze blowing that carried the sweetness of the mimosa flowers to our deck while softly stirring the chimes that sounded out from the garden.
We watched the birds show up for their evening meal, perching on the mimosa tree that sat beside the feeder. The tree had a second flower blooming. A hummingbird arrived, hovering in front of the glass window on the door, watching itself for a moment before zipping off into the woods.
A baby chickadee showed up, standing on a block of suet, feeding. These birds were already small, but the young chickadee, although perfectly proportioned, looked too small to be real. We heard new bird songs, probably from a migratory species that recently showed up in the area. At dusk, three bats fluttered high above the backyard, diving to catch flying insects.
My wife had homework assignments to complete, so she pulled out her laptop, sitting at the outdoor table. I took advantage of the downtime and grabbed my computer, knocking out a writing session as I glanced up to see my wife’s face from time to time. I missed her and it was nice having her home sitting right beside me. It was a productive session, and working outside was a perfect way to enjoy the evening.
It was time to get ready for bed, so my wife went to take a bath while I heated a can of soup on the stove. When my wife finished bathing, she came to the kitchen and saw me eating. She apologized because I was eating a can of soup, half-joking. She knew I didn’t care, and that I could feed myself. A can of soup sounded quick and satisfying, and it was.
My wife sat down at the table with me as I finished eating and made a few notes on my computer. When I left to go shower, she was sitting at the dining room table studying more before going to bed. Later, I turned off the lights in my office and closed the door for the night. Bodhi was in his bed, completely covered in his blanket, but his distinct shape always told me where his head and muzzle were. I said good night to him and Kilo before moving to the east side of the house. There, I checked on Koda and Axel, thanking them for being our dogs, and wishing them a good night. When I crawled into bed, my wife was already asleep.