The Native Iowan

… in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez, sort of way…

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gabriel_Garc%C3%ADa_M%C3%A1rquez

I am thinking of the magnificent read “one hundred years of solitude”.

It was the butterflies. Blame it on the butterflies in the back yard.

Slow sedate Saturday morn. Grace out n about early. The boys alternately feeding themselves and watching a combination of TV, YouTube and Xbox. Never sure which is on at any given time and indeed there are times when at least 2 devices are running side by side.

I do the Saturday morn move from bed to sofa and doze as the boys stimulate their minds. A spring wind blows crisp and sharp. The back windows are open and the air is chilled. I have a big old afghan Zai-Olo made keeping me warm.

I am roused by one of those sounds… one of those sounds that are made when someone is trying to be quiet. One of the sounds made when someone is trying to not make a sound.

I wake enough to move to an elbow and see the boys trying to open a bag of jelly snakes. Mendozza has the bag stretched tight while Angelo has the kitchen sheers poised to do the silent cut. They give me that “busted” look. I grumble something about “..thats not breakfast food…” and begin the process of getting-up.

That was a couple of hours ago. Our plan is to go out and hit the surf shops along the coast. We’re after a couple used boards and wet suits to suit all. We’re getting geared up for a summer of surfing but first, we need to give the house a quick cleaning, tidy up the rooms. Then we can head out ensuring Zai is happy.

All went easily, the house was tended to, and the boys chose to return to their eDevices rather than rush off. So the xbox has batman kicking the stuffing outa loads of nasties. The computer is running Utube clips of past WWE matches.

I head outside with a coffee to talk to my plants. We had rain on Thursday but not much. The sun keeps shining and the wind keeps blowing so the plants are thirsty. The tomatoes and capsicum doing well. Second crop of spring onions coming along. Did a green tomato chutney the other day that was killer. Old crops being harvested. New crops ready to be transplanted.

I wander around the yard pulling the garden hose behind me. I am sure I am the quintessential picture of a retired old fart in suburbia… I am in my lava-lava, my hair is a mess. Bare chested and barefooted. The boys hate when I go outside in “a dress”. Grace would yell at me for going out looking so tropo. She says I scare the neighbors. I am happy. The plants are happy. They need the water.

As I am finishing off I return to the back corner where the new shoots are coming up. A big magpie is in the corner digging in the soft bed. We startle each other and exchange greetings. The magpie continues its hunting as I continue my watering. A number of small white butterflies dance around the flowers on the capsicum.

The spray from my garden hose crates a perfect rainbow. I play the water back and forth. Create a moving rainbow. With a dopey smile I recall a childhood experience. Of playing with the hose and making rainbows.

I accidentally wet one of the butterflies. I feel a bit bad. It drops to a leaf of the capsicum and is dry and flying again in a short moment. I notice now that another butterfly is hanging on the outside of the spray. It appears to be maintaining position just in the light mist on the fringe of the spray. I hold the hose steady. A symbiotic gesture.

We have a rainbow and a butterfly, side by side, in the back yard.

… in a Gabriel Garcia Marquez, sort of way…

Life is GUUD