Morning Snippets from the Heart of a Summer Garden

I'm watching a bumblebee headed out looking for his next big score.

He has a stumbling pace and a dogged persistence the way he harries the geraniums, making his lumbering approach like a helicopter. . .one pass . . . two. . .and then touchdown and a quick scramble into the heart of the bloom. He finally spies the hyssop bush, a bumblebee favorite, and heads that way by the shortest possible route, which is over my steaming coffee cup.

I see the blue jays squabbling and complaining as they track Gabby, my old ginger cat, with their eyes. They don't look apprehensive. They appear full of mischief, and soon one flies over Gabby's head, too close for comfort, and chortles as he veers off and returns to his buddies along the fence.

Gabby is above this avian wrangling and ignores the jay. A few years ago he would have given chase, launching into the warm morning air, sure and efficient. He wouldn't have caught the cagey bird, but they'd have had a diverting exchange. Arthritis has my Gabby taking a more sedate course these days, and the jays soon lose interest in him. Jays are smart and industrious, and love to taunt cats with their aerial exploits while maintaining a safe distance -- the cowards. Gabby turns his back and sharpens his claws on an old tree stump, dignified and unflappable.

I watch the spider webs along the deck railing every morning with great interest. They often have fat morning dewdrops on them that reflect the light like dangling prisms. The spiders in their spun parlors seem stuporous or dreaming this time of day, but I know it's an illusion.

If you're working today, have a good morning.  Take a break for a mid-morning cup of tea or a peek out the window.  Summer's good, and it won't last.