My Favourite Month

It's the time of year, the time of the summer, when I can hardly get any work done for the draw of the back deck.
The canopy that provides shade under the spruce trees. The anti-gravity chair that cradles my body comfortably. The ospreys chirping and flying.
Also, I'm here alone. No one has joined me. I don't have to make conversation, I don't have to put down my book.
But then I do because really, all I want to do is watch the world in front of me. In my back yard.

It was like this on the front porch of our old summer house on Pugwash Point. You could sit there for hours looking out over the field, the road, the harbour.
The view likely never ever changed. Maybe a car would drive down the road and eventually pass by again after turning around at the end of the road.

Here, I can sit on the back deck and look at the yard, the trees, our gardens. Seagulls circle over the freshly-mowed and baled field. Today -- and for the rest of the month -- the action is provided by the ospreys flying in and out of the nest. This is mostly what draws me, us, to sit on the back deck. We are watching this year's hatchlings learning to fly, getting the hang of it, so much so they chase the crows. We will watch as they learn to fish, too.

Unlike the old house on the hill, nothing is quiet here. I hear wind, the birds chirping, wind chimes. Every so often, Andre Poulet will crow.  But silence isn't the point; the point is stillness. The point is just sitting, relaxed in my chair, not even turning pages, not doing anything but enjoying the view.

"We can't do this in February." As if we need to justify our enjoyment of this space, these gifts.