Watching the World from My Front Door.

Sometimes when I’ve been sick for a while and stuck in my tiny apartment for too long, and the lonely quiet and the stale air are too much, I open the door, sit in my hammock chair and watch the world outside.

The enormous eucalyptus trees that bring a fresh, crisp aroma when there’s even a slight bit of moisture in the air are looking droopy and sad from the summer’s heat. They filter the sun through their leaves into shadowy patches of dark and light on the ground.

The bird feeder that normally hangs from a piece of spiral rebar attached to a tree stump has fallen to the ground, likely courtesy of the racoons that I heard pillaging the garden last night. The sparrows are ferociously pecking at the dirt to get every last morsel of spilled bird seed.

Two gray doves are flinging water into the air as they plunge clumsily into the bird bath.

A hummingbird slurps greedily from the red glass feeder hanging from the stairs and quickly flies away only to fly back again for more seconds later.

Beyond the garden a woman in a gray tank top steps lackadaisically from the trail to the sidewalk, red-faced and sweaty from her run. A man in a blue jacket with a red back-pack is standing up while pedaling his bike in the opposite direction on the trail heading into the forest.

I hear a falcon screeching again in the distance.

A western breeze drifts slowly across the garden lightly nudging the bamboo windchimes that softly clank in response.

The scent of the ocean briefly tickles my nostrils before the wind picks up and moves across the forest causing the trees to creek and groan at the disturbance. The long strips of hanging bark crackle against the trunks and branches.

Suddenly a large piece falls crashing to the ground, startling the birds who quickly vanish into the trees.  

I close the door against the wind and retreat back into my safe haven until the next time that I need a breath of fresh air and perspective.