Company for Coffee

7/29/2015

The Lay of the Land

By Lyn Messersmith

Company for Coffee

            It’s one of those rare summer mornings with no breeze; a day destined to be hot, but then it’s July, after all. I’m alone on the place, sitting on the deck, drinking in the fragrance of fresh mowed hay along with my first cup of coffee.

            Oh, wait—I’m not alone. The crew is gathering as I speak. Betsy Barn Swallow flicks my hair and scolds, because I’m sitting below the nest where her babies await an early meal. She’s already put out about having to move. Early in the season, my husband put a rubber dragon in her first nest, which was directly above the door. I think she’s come to realize the critter is harmless, but the size of the monster prohibits double occupancy.

            Timothy and Thomas peek out from their hiding place in a pot of petunias, panting already, from the early sun. Unlike Betsy, they haven’t been persuaded to abandon their favorite place, and since the plant doesn’t seem to mind, I guess I don’t either. Perhaps it’ silly to name birds and toads, but when critters come around on a daily basis, one has to call them something, don’t you think? Betsy has a no nonsense personality, and her name fits that, but Tim and Tom seems too informal for the dignified and somber persona of toads.

            A couple of hundred dragonflies flit around shady areas of the yard, gobbling up a breakfast of mosquitos. There’s certainly no shortage in the pantry for any of my companions, and I’m grateful for their appetites because my skin stays pretty much intact.

            The cottontail in the garden, who believes he’s invisible, has no name because he/she may be any one of many that skitter out of the driveway when we approach at night. They don’t eat much, so we have decided to let sleeping, or jumping, bunnies lie.

            Molly didn’t see the garter snake that lives under the deck, when it came out. She’s so deaf and blind now that we have to grab them by the tail and hand them to her, but she still knows how to demolish them with a couple of sharp shakes. I let this one go. He isn’t hurting anything, and Molly is dozing too peacefully to be disturbed.

            Taffy cat has half a mouse hanging out of her mouth, and is eyeing me suspiciously. No idea why she thinks I would desire to deprive her of that prize.

            A cluster of blackbirds flutters and chatters beneath the empty feeder. Everyone seems to have their minds on food, so it must be time to go start my breakfast.

            Many folks who have reached this stage of life gather in the coffee shop to exchange news and get a jump on their day. It’s too far to town for me to do that, even if I wanted to, and I don’t. The crew that joins me here on the deck never gossips, at least in any manner I can comprehend. We’re all minding our own, and that’s as good a way as any to start the day, in my book.