Pause on the Patio

I sat on the patio last night and enjoyed that slice of time that rests between day and night, a time, much like dawn, that poets find inspiring and enlightening. I understand why. The only question I have is why more poets have not haled from our fine state of Kansas and filled volume after volume with verse sprung from those daily respites alone, for I honestly believe there is no better place to enjoy those meaningful moments than right here, nestled securely in the heart of this land. As I sat, my phone rang, and the voice on the other end, which belonged to Steve Warner, asked if I could see the sunset from my chair on the west side of my house; he too had been struck by the sunset and the scene it painted.

"So what?" you may ask, especially if you are one of those poor souls who has decided that our fortunate geographic niche in the universe is simply too boring, or too "Kansas" to be amazing. I offer for you exhibit A, proof positive that this land of the brave is in fact anything but boring. Just because life may move at a slightly slower pace here than on the coasts or even in those Midwestern cities does not mean nature is less enticing here. We simply have to allow that pace to take hold and work its magic. Sit on your back porch, or your front steps, or take a walk as the sun glides behind the western horizon. As the light fades, life buzzes, if you listen and look. It may not slap you in the face like a neon light or rush of isolated crowds on their ways to late dinners, but it hums around you and wants to be heard. Lightning bugs zip from below cottonwood branches, and the leaves that adorn those branches turn to listen to the whisper of a breeze. Somehow here, voices carry, and you hear the lady a block over laugh at whatever it is that makes her laugh as she stands in the drive of her neighbor, pausing to see how the week went as she drops off extra tomatoes from her garden. It is not all nature and naturalism, for you also hear the gravelly scrape as tires skid across pavement. Usually those tires come in pairs; kids still ride bikes here, at least on their own block, and if the tires propel a four-wheeled vehicle, the driver will most likely raise a hand from the steering wheel as he passes, often accompanied by a head nod, as if to say, "I don't know your name, but you live around here, so it's the least I can do."

Still not convinced? Consider this: variety is the spice of life. Do you want variety? You have it here. Last week I stepped onto my patio a little later, around 10:30 so, and the neighborhood had in fact grown much quieter. It was 91 degrees. That is warm, especially since the sun had been down for some time. Last night, while not chilly, was perfectly pleasant, and I even stoked a fire in my recently acquired chiminea, not because it was uncomfortable, but because I just wanted to, and there is something about a flickering flame that adds a sense of serenity to an evening as the sun says, "So long." Tonight, it might be raining, a pleasant shower that falls peacefully and rolls from the roof, or it might storm and rattle the windows with thunder sent down by electric flashes that illuminate the entire world for an instant and reveal ropes of water that turn gutters into gushers and streets into canals. Who knows? Some of you who have lived here for a while might be saying, "It might do all of those, as a front rolls through dropping the temperature from blazing to brisk in an instant and rolling in waves of thin clouds, clear skies, and rolling thunderheads, all within an hour or two.

It is Saturday. and while you may have missed a morning that offered a cool  and calm sunrise, take the time today to allow your life to fall into sync with the world around you. You don't have to wax poetic if that is not your style, but you will most likely breathe somewhat more deeply, not with that frustrated sigh of a harried week, but with satisfaction that this really is a place worth enjoying, even if just for a moment.

That is what I will do. Have a great weekend.