Beautiful crisp spring weather and a glass of cool lemonade was all that a little sweet southern belle could ask for on this day of lazy contemplation. Breezy soft air collected perfume from the velvety rose garden with its splashes of fuchsia, shell pink, buttercup yellow, pale peach, and shocking red. The clumsy clouds with their oddball shapes like fluffy cotton candy and marshmallows danced above my head. The robin's egg blue colored sky playing peek a boo with me as I sat under the magnolia tree spying on the variety of birds competing for perching places on the abundantly supplied birdfeeder.
This beauty around me was breath taking and under appreciated by many. The day was too nice to escape notice. I couldn't help but wish that I had someone with me to enjoy this quiet gentle canvas God supplied and nature painted. The warm air was hypnotic, relaxing me enough to loosen the buttons at the bodice of my powder blue sundress. I leaned back against the massive bark of the tree; books scattered around my petite form on the multicolored quilt Granny made years ago.
I don't know how long my new neighbor was there in his own flower garden with its multitude of buttercups, daisies, and other wild flowers before I noticed him. I could tell from the way he were singing those off colored sailor songs that he didn't know I was close by, lost in the splendor of my own piece of heaven. With amusement I watched as he danced around the glorious sunflowers he had planted by the picket fence, for more privacy I assumed. They had to have been 7 feet tall and so beautiful, yellow ochre in color and essence. His dancing skills were funny, like those of a drunken Indian trying to entice rain with magic feet but getting snow instead. The soft musical sound of my giggle made him pause mid step, frozen.
My laughter increased as his head appeared under the heavy blossoms of the sunflowers. With his vibrant manliness, he looked out of place in all the coziness of the giant flowers. Upon seeing me, he smiled mischievously, like a boy caught stealing his first kiss. I radiated a smile in his direction that caused a blushing to his cheeks, which I believe hasn’t blushed in years. In the silence I said a tentative hello. His hello back was humble and endearing. I lifted my glass of lemonade, condensation accumulating, and pantomimed pouring him one. He hopped over his fence, trying to do so smoothly but I detected the faintest effort on his part. This amused me even more, the nonchalant air he was attempting to achieve all for the sake of appearance.
"Welcome to the neighborhood," I said, handing him a glass of refreshing lemonade. His tanned fingers brushed mine; the effects sent chills up my arm. I caught his eye and held the stare as I waited for his response. My look was confident and friendly.
"Thank you, my dear," he said. "Nice rose garden. I can smell them when the morning breeze sails my way some mornings." He took a long gulp. "I didn't know you were here or I would have watched a Gene Kelly movie." My soft laugh seemed to please him. I traced designs in the moisture of my glass.
"Sorry I haven't been over with the customary welcoming casserole. My Granny would roll over in her grave if she got wind of this." I whispered the last part from behind a slim hand. His laughter startled the birds, sending them squawking.
"Well, I wish you had remembered because if this your cooking is as good as this lemonade I am in heaven." I kept silent and thanked Kool-Aide. "The kind Widow Brown brought over apple pie. I still have some left. Would you like a slice?"
