Thinking outside

I sit outside now. I take a book or just myself. I sit in a beige plastic Adirondack chair with my feet on a green plastic table set chair. I watch the cats wonder, eat and sleep. I watch the Monarchs bounce in the air. I watch the cats watch the Monarchs. I watch the Blue Jays jump from tree to tree. I watch the cats sneak from tree trunk to tree trunk. I hope the Monarch doesn't have West Nile. I try to evaluate whether my two young trees have grown since yesterday.

It is winter. A Southern Winter. A Southern winter equals a Northern early fall without the dramatic change in color. The South has seasonal impairment. There is the green season, the less green season and variations of green in between. I will watch my backyard degreen and regreen itself.

At night, I watch the clouds move and the airplanes blink. A couple of stars are visible but a celestial navigator would be stressed in these conditions.

I don't think. I observe. Most of the time.