Chatsford Hall slept in the gentle sunshine of late afternoon. A recent rain shower left us surrounded by moist early summer scents. From the fences surrounding our little spot of Eden came the soothing coos of mourning doves. It was that most gracious hour midway between lunch and afternoon coffee when Nature takes off her shoes and puts her feet up.
"Well, here we are, Wonder," I said.
"Another day in paradise," she said.
Her words took me by surprise. Laughter escaped with the force of an exploding paper bag. You probably had the same experience. I mean, the woman is constantly amazing us with her unique insight and wisdom, but she's not a standup comic.
"Wonder!" I said as I attempted to catch my breath, "Don't spring things like that on me without warning. I might have injured myself."
She didn't respond right away but seemed intently interested in a group of doves that wandered the lawn in search of bird seed left by the flocks of cardinals and chickadees that had breakfasted there earlier in the day.
"I think doves are related to chickens," she said.
Again, I was fascinated by her words and the thoughts they expressed. I felt an indescribable thrill to be present and to share this magical moment with her.
"Bobbing heads?" I said.
I know, it wasn't much of a comeback but I gave no thought to enriching the vocabulary when I was so overcome with the richness of the shared experience.
"Bobbleheads," she said.
Laughter poured out of me again. I was near hypomanic. After all, this premier wonder worker is a woman who has access to the combined wisdom of the ancients, and probably the complete annotated edition of the Akashic records, and who knows, maybe the Hall of Records, that library hidden below the Great Sphinx? But she reads historical novels not humorous ones.
"Common ancestors," I offered, "dinosaurs?"
"Have you ever seen a flamboyance of flamingos walking in formation?" she asked.
"Flamboyance?" I asked. "Well, yes I suppose you might think of them as flamboyant with those glorious pink bodies and all that elegance."
"That's the official term," she said. "flamboyance."
"Do they bob heads?" I asked.
"In unison," she said, "synchronized walking and bobbing."
"Synchronized," I said. "It's new to me but strangely fascinating."
We became quiet while flamingos marched and bobbed in the movies playing in our minds. At least they bobbed in mine, I can't say what was happening in her head. We continued to sit in silence listening to the doves cooing to each other in the fading light of early evening.
The doves' serenade was backed up by an evening chorus of cardinals and chickadees. As if it were their queue, the squirrel circus began their final performance for the day.
My thoughts were of summers past spent with the woman who was sitting here by my side and presently, those thoughts were replaced with possibilities for the summer about to begin.
That soft, quiet moment continued through the evening until, at last, the doves lined up on the rooftop to watch the sunset.
It was another day in paradise, just as she'd said earlier, and I felt a simple but profound joy just knowing that there would be many more days like these spent in the company of the love of my life, Ms. Wonder.