It’s a peaceful kind of morning. No hustle, no bustle.
There’s a cool breeze, and it’s a nice respite before the West Texas July sun follows it’s usual path in the cloudless sky and the daytime temps rise to scorch and wither. But after all, it is summer. What else do we expect.
EK and I sat outside for a spell. Me with my coffee, she with her glee.
Watching the world through the eyes of a baby brings on a new light. I read that every day to a baby is like a visit to Paris for the first time for us. The new smells, the new sights. We would be on high alert, taking it all in.
Her yard is a far cry from Paris, I would have to imagine since I’ve never visited there. But oh, how she takes it all in. She notices the smallest things. A leaf blowing across the yard, a black bird flying to rest in a tree top, the bark of Drew and Grace from the backyard saying, “We want out, let us out, we want to see you this morning too”, the choo choo whistle as it rolls down the tracks.
A chicken flew up on the arm of our chair with her beady eye and pointy beak. Me, I’m a bit intimidated. I don’t know why I suddenly became afraid of my chickens, as if they could peck me to death or something. I usually shoo them away afraid they might peck EK, but today we just sat. The chicken jerked her chicken neck around studying us, and EK stared back. I put EK’s hand on her feathers to let her feel.
The other day my mom mentioned how the baby needs one of those toys, you know the kind we used to have as a kid. Where you pull the string and the animal makes it’s sound. I said, “Mom. Look around. Why does she need that? We have horses that say neigh, dogs that say ruff, chickens that say bawk, cows that say moo, right here.”
That seemed to satisfy my mom, but it wouldn’t surprise me if she pulls up with a pig in the passenger seat one day.
Angel Wheeler 