Armed with a cup of raspberry tea, I sit on the back porch in the early morning trying to breath through a particularly unnerving spate of depressing thoughts. The ugly words are slowly beaten into submission by the onslaught of the irritating sounds of the cicadas. Fighting to be heard over the insects din are the melodies of the different birds doing their call and response routines. The rooster next door chimes in, reminding the neighbors they’d better wake up soon. The hives are abuzz, sending the workers out for the day. Bob comes running around the corner, talking to me with his funny chirping meow, wondering why I’m outside so early.
As I begin to relax, my eyes take in the vibrant colors of the Goldfinches, the Scarlet Tanagers, and the Indigo Buntings (my favorite). The myriad shades of green of the trees and grasses help to stave off the tears brimming in my eyes. The quiet movements of the small spots of white wild daisies and the yellow of the bird’s foot trefoil remind me to notice the small beauties that I have forgotten to see. The heady scent of the honeysuckle replaces the stench of despair.
One of our other cats comes up to me, “Did you forget our breakfast?” One more sip of tea, one more sweep of my eyes over the lush landscape, one more deep inhalation of the scent of hope. I go into the house with the knowledge that I can make it through another day.