Through the Knothole

I padded through the cool lawn toward the weathered timber fence at the garden boundary. Near the bottom rail, an old knothole in the pine plank offered a clear view into the meadow grass beyond. Bracing both paws against the rough, sun-warmed grain, I lifted my brass binoculars to my eyes. Right across the ditch, a heavy bumblebee hovered methodically over a blooming purple thistle, dusted in yellow pollen. I stayed entirely still so the vibration of my paws wouldn't disturb its work. Seeing the wild field wake up at its own quiet pace makes every step out here worthwhile.