There's one place on the path in my walk where this time of year the air is virtually alive with butterflies and dragonflies and birds, too. It's a nature-planted butterfly garden and today I simply stopped for a moment to witness all of the life dipping and darting and swaying and alighting and soaring in the late-summer air. It felt as if perhaps I was seeing the very apex of life in North Florida as every creature was taking in the last of summer's abundance.
The places in the path which are sandy were covered in the baby-toes-looking prints of the raccoons and I wondered what it must look like there at night- a woodsy highway of small furry animals, going about their nocturnal business under a silver moon.
There's so much on my heart today. And anxiety clouds everything. The walk, however, and a shower afterward, helped. I've talked to my husband about us taking some steps to get ready just in case a category five hurricane does decide to come this way. Tanks for generator need filling, generator needs testing, batteries need to be gotten, water, food, cars filled with fuel.
There is always so much to be anxious about if one does not have the proper filters.
A planet which seems to either be on fire or flooded.
A president who, upon leaving a shelter for displaced victims of a hurricane who have possibly lost everything they own, says, "Have a good time!" before he boards Air Force One with his model wife.
Meanwhile, here we are and no matter what the hell is going on in this world or in my own tiny head, it would be a sin not to stop and notice the butterflies, the dragonflies, the birds and the sky and the first red leaves which are dropping to the ground (yes, even here, even now), the slight change in temperature and humidity, the minuscule fern-banked pond which lies so still and quiet right behind the old gas station, the beginning buds of firespike, the sudden shooting up of hurricane lilies, the humming chatter of the crickets.
And of course, the color purple.
And so I do.