The figs are budding on the hike and bike. Those that form the understory to the still-skeletal oaks waving their spindly branches in the chilly spring breeze are barely green, their buds and tiny leaves desperately reaching for the dappled spots of sunlight their taller neighbors will allow. The figs in the full sunlight, just twenty paces away, are bursting forth with greenery, reveling in the abundance of rays cutting through the powder blue sky of this spring morning.
I decide to take advantage of the chill sunshine on my back porch, on this rare lovely day before the Texas heat--and mosquitoes--take over. I don't often mix tech with fresh air; looking at my screen with grass and dandelions and waving nandina bushes in my peripheral vision feels a bit odd, but I will not give up this moment of light and air and birdsong.
The rest of my day will be spent filling in numbers on a tax program, punctuated with loads of laundry to be folded. Until then, I will allow my senses to be filled up as I empty my coffee cup, marveling in the newness of the season, grateful for my place on the edge of the hike and bike.