Working from home has made me so much more aware of the passing of the seasons.
I missed the birds this summer when they ignored the feeder in favor of fresh seeds and insects, worms. When I fill it in leaner times, within the hour calls fill the air -- the closest alerting the others soup's on.
Though it's mid-September, summer is only beginning to loosen around the edges. The lawns, burned-out from extreme heat, make feeble attempts to grow when it rains. I can see in the brown spots exactly where the shade ends.
Mostly, though, I watch the trees and squirrels while I'm standing at the window on my conference calls. The squirrels keep hiding food in the planters I bring into the garage during the winter. I tell them not to do it -- they'll never find it in the garage -- but they don't listen. Lucky for them we feed them, too, when the wind begins to cut across a barren yard.
Instead of voices, I hear thunder and birdsong. Instead of phones ringing or printers shuffling, I hear the sighs of my cat in her sleep.
Sometimes it's lonely or weird when I realize I haven't really left the house in days. But then I look out at all the natural light pouring in through my windows and I remember what going to an office felt like, and I appreciate getting to see the seasons change for real this time.
By the way, my sister is giving away Mike Rowe Lee jeans. Your chances are good if you scoot over there now.
