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  • Olivia the Shitzu has found her courage again and explores her domain with the happy prance of a puppy while I sit on the glider reading my bible and composing today's Haiku. The coffee is fresh and hot and strong, the cigar smoke slips into me like a scented breeze.

    My tomatoes are still green, although many seem large enough to pick. Birds are singing, chirping, flitting about. Bees are about their business on my wildflowers. The air hangs upon me like a wet rag.

    There is a newness to the morning, an air so sweet and fragrant, like the incense in the temple before the Holy of Holies. It is not one particular scent or sound, but a combination set in nature, a harmony which, like God, cannot be truly defined.

    The hummingbird has returned to the feeder, being chased away earlier by a substantial sized wasp that has since departed. Surprisingly the remainder of our avian diners have not come to the seed cake this morning. Perhaps they are hoping the sunlight will burn away some of the humidity.

    I decided to clip six of the larger beefsteak tomatoes and sit them on the sill of the porch to ripen. If they refuse to ripen up, there's always the prospect of fired green tomatoes.....mmmm.

    Psalm 1:3
    And he shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that bringeth forth his fruit in season; his leaf also shall not wither; and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.

    © July 7, 2012
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