Evidence of those things not seen…
The oak trees are dropping their pollen tassels and the southern breeze carries old leaves from last year to the ground making room for the new light green ones that push their way to the sunlight.
My grandmother used to say those old live oak trees were the “trash-iest” trees. They are just dropping something all year long. Either its acorns, leaves, pollen tassels or those darn gypsy moth worms hanging from an invisible tether.
Well, I guess I will sweep and blow it away with a smile because my house is tucked under trees hundreds of years old and I’m so grateful. The two in the front look like they are reaching for each other. My friend and I noticed that one evening while we sipped tequila on the porch and listened to the last sounds of the day.
The horses swish their tails less often when the breeze grows stronger providing a welcome break from the flies biting at their legs.
In the early hours of the morning I wake as the bed sheet lifts in the breeze and brushes my face. The small ivory curtain tossing in the window encourages me to snuggle a little deeper into my light summer blanket. Thank you soft sweet breeze for keeping me cool on a warm summer night.
I discovered this wind map and found it fascinating to watch. My grandfather would have loved this…