Finally sitting in the garden. Sun still high, but evening breezes push shadows along. Monarch butterflies caper together as hummingbirds zip dutifully among nodding flowers.
I rarely sit in the garden in which I labor so intensely. I am not sure why. But I am tonight. As I always hope, it is timeless. Changed by the years and neglect, but rebounding more strongly than my mortal frame ever will.
There are two chairs in the front of my garden.
Two is civil. My children once sat here with me, they are grown. Long gone, the Confused Soul refused to sit here, afraid of dirtying his clothes.
The other chair may remain empty, but that is okay too. Between the past, present, future, and all that lives in this garden and passes through it, there is plenty of company to go around.
Shouldn't...but Do 
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