Six Senses Sunday #54

See:
• Tiny wrens constructing nests inside the wooden birdhouses that overlook the vegetable garden, taking time between branch-laden flights to sing from their new rooftops
• An agitated male turkey with a long, hairy black beard. I didn't know turkeys had beards, did you?
• A summer-like haze over the sun and moon, a single firefly flashing by the mailbox
• The waxy petals and dangling roots of orchids, hundreds of them — photos coming!

Hear:
• The inspiring women of Gaia Roots drumming and singing at the Hilltown Spring Festival
• Unfamiliar mewing from the night garden, which a flashlight out the window revealed to be our own little cat, staring back in at us
• June bugs throwing themselves against storm windows
• Twenty motorcycles at a time passing by the house, the coffee in my mug quivering

Taste:
• Bowls of red lentil Dal
• Eggplant Parmesan on a crisp toasted roll
• Dark chocolate dotted with hot chilies
• Warm rhubarb pie with a flaky, buttery crust

Touch:
• Tugging apart the knotted roots of Hosta and iris, and the feeling of satisfaction when they separate without breaking
• First I blamed yoga, then I blamed the gym, but the chronic pain I've had in my shoulder for over a year now is quite obviously from my commute-and-desk-job sitting. Luckily weekends bring relief.
• The damp chill of walking barefoot through the yard at dusk

Feel:
• On Saturday morning I wake up with the number "838" in my head and wonder about it all day. I can't help but notice that 8+3=11 and 8+3+8=19 (11/19 being the date my mom died), but I don't know whether to chalk that up to mere coincidence or...? I don't really believe anything is coincidence, as you've probably surmised by now.
• Excitement and relief - our friends are moving back to their cabin, barn, and pastures across the hill, sans a beautiful family house and some wooded acreage that has to be sold. Summer bonfires will ensue.
• Renewed zeal for getting my hands dirty in the neglected perennial beds

Smell:
• The morels we found last week are dry and shrunken, smelling earthy, but only if you make an effort to sniff them
• Fingers brushing up against fresh thyme, rosemary, lavender in the garden
• Sadie and Vixen have cooled off in the cow field pond...