Sometimes a perfect summer morning comes fluttering by. A combination of a cool breeze, fluffy clouds tumbling through a bright sky and the chatter of happy birds hunting for breakfast. The cicadas hum yet everything is still and the mind empties to join the stillness. Today was one of those rare, perfect moments.
Not wanting to let it slip through my fingers, I took my breakfast of ripe, juicy melon outside. The melon was grown by a nearby produce farmer who kindly dropped off a pile of them to D’s family just yesterday. I call it cantaloup but around here it’s known as mushmelon. Since these were ripened entirely on the vine, each was heavily fragrant and sweet.
I joined the birds in the grass to savor my smiling slices. A dozen ants promptly joined me, wiggling ecstatically as they slurped up droplets of juice.
There was plenty to go around.