Clouds cluster, warn of coming storms.  Having been shut in for days, I am anxious to get outside. Trusty camera carefully secured around my neck, hands firm on walker’s grip, I begin my slow stroll through the neighbourhood.  A gust of wind disrupts the flight of a bumblebee, and we collide: he striking my cheek. I step back, startled. No damage done.
I follow a walkway, built between the houses, leading to our community center. This route takes me past rows of flourishing gardens – a feast of vibrancy. I slow to watch the bees delightedly dancing from bloom to bloom. At the edge of my friend’s house, I hear the crickets, loud and raucous, as if they know that she is currently away. I pause to listen, surprised to hear such unabashed chirping mid-day.
Lingering, I hope to catch a glimpse of one, maybe even a photograph, but the creatures are securely tucked in the shadows of the overgrown foliage, oblivious to my presence.  I capture the flight of a bee, and the elegant profile of a mourning dove, and then turn back. A white winged moth brushes my hand in passing and then stops long enough for me to take a picture. The crickets keep on singing.
Midday crickets sing –
revel in nature’s bounty,
as storm clouds gather.
(Written for dVerse, hosted tonight by Victoria.)
One Woman's Quest 