Why do I like sitting in my backyard?
Because if I look up and away from my chickens ― my roving lawn ornaments ― I see hundreds of thousands of leaves, a mini grove of oaks, their branches making multiple crossings to obscure my view of the sky.
I hear doves practicing the “oo” sound. Squirrels bend the bows of my redwoods. Late at night an occasional owl will screech. In the morning, dozens of birds perform a symphony, and I don’t even need a ticket.
Shortly after dawn, as if to say, “I can sing, too,” Flip and Dee will deliver a “balk, balk.” They do not realize they are the loud talkers in the front row of the auditorium. And if you sit very still in the late afternoon, a hummingbird will come along and buzz, its wings making wind while its beak sips the nectar of a flower.
Forsake the forest and the beach. Come to suburban Cobb Court. A glass of wine and myriad sounds in the air will tell you all is well.
