Most mornings, I walk outside and notice what is waiting for me.
The birds at the feeders. The fountain running. Something moving along the edge of the puddle. Evidence that someone has already eaten breakfast beneath the maple tree.
What I usually don’t see is everything that happens before I open the door.
This morning, through the screen, we watched the little birds make their way farther up the patio than I normally see them go. They hopped across the pavers, wandered around the fountain rocks, and searched for whatever bits of birdseed had found their way there.
I am sure this is not new.
They probably come up here early in the morning while the patio is still quiet, before the dogs come bounding outside and before I settle into my chair. They likely know every corner of this place much better than I realize.
But there was something fun about catching them at it.
For a few minutes, I got to see the patio as it exists when I am not part of it.
Maybe that is one of the reasons I enjoy watching this little place so much. No matter how carefully I pay attention, there is always an entire world carrying on before I arrive, after I leave, and while I am looking somewhere else.
Every once in a while, I just happen to catch them in the middle of it.
Leave a Reply