Brings May flowers

This morning, after taking a shower, I sat outside to let my hair dry in the sun while I indulged in a leisurely phone call with Artist Friend. I call him Artist Friend because he is an artist, and his creative work seems to be the defining part of his personality, but he's also a writer who teaches at a college like I do, and we don't have much time to talk during the busy semester. So it's become a tradition in May to catch up with a long phone call.

We don't have too much in bloom here yet, but my lawn was just covered with bright yellow dandelions, those cheery spring flowers, and the softer blues of forget-me-nots and purple creeping charlie. I could feel the sun on my wet hair, on my legs and on my arms. Birds trilled and sang from the woods around me, and the wind chimes that hang from the house sang softly when the wind blew.

Artist Friend, miles and miles to the west of me, was relaxing in his own backyard, and our conversation would get interrupted every time he saw something exciting. "A wren! A wren carrying a stick!" (Honest. That's an exact quote. I am not making it up.) A bunch of crows in his neighborhood were getting so excited about something that I could hear their cawing over the phone line.

We talked about our summer plans – vacations with our families and a conference we're both going to – and about the writing we want to accomplish over the next month. We talked about the hike I'd taken yesterday: Artist Friend is a naturalist who always wants to know the names of flowers and birds and butterflies. By the time I had hung up the phone, my hair was dry, smelling like lavender and sunshine, and it was time to get dressed and begin my day.