I dragged my trusty chaise lounge down from the full sun of the deck into a shady grotto I've carved out under the new leaves of the wisteria. In my newfound nook in nature, I can sit and enjoy the balmy breezes of May yet be sheltered from the afternoon sun's rays.
I had to pull out some unwanted volunteer grass clumps along the pond's edge but once I did my new spot affords me a beautiful view of the pond and the waterfall. If I close my eyes the soothing sound of the cascading water lulls away all my cares and almost makes me forget that there's a bazillion other clumps of grass (and weeds) that need to be pulled in close proximity to where I sit... almost. It's easier to forget when I close my eyes.
I sit and watch the ripples the mosquito fish make as they nose their mouths up against the underside of the water's surface looking for tasty tidbits amidst the floating pomegranate petals that have fluttered down from the pomegranate limbs hanging above.
If I get up from the chaise and sit on the bench directly under the pomegranate I can sometimes catch a glimpse of a hummingbird sipping from the brilliant coral-colored blooms.
I usually hear the hummingbird's chirping first. Then if I look in the direction of the chirping, I'll see the fluttering wings amidst the shiny green pomegranate leaves. Hummingbirds are so stealthy.
Mostly, I just sit in the chaise and ponder things. Sometimes I doze a bit. The garden kitty comes and visits--jumping up on my lap for a love attack. She'll wander off and then come back--checking in often to see if I've left my spot.
Sometimes I'll still be there when the sun starts to set and the bugs of twilight emerge. Eventually, Hubby will come out and tell me it's time to come in because the inside kitties are meowing for me at the window. Then my little wisteria grotto has to wait until the next afternoon.