At lunch, I go wondering. Most days, it’s just next door. Through a beautiful botanic garden. There are birds. There are trees. There are people. There is life.
Some days, I sit and watch the crested pigeons burble about and practice their mating dance. Today I happened upon a kookaburra. Every single day the trees are full of parrots.
Today, in the middle of winter, the day turned gloriously sunny and I rested on a park bench and soaked the sun into my bones. On other days, the wind is whistling and the temperature plummets, so I hide in the house of the lilies, warm and sumptuous and quiet. Sometimes I huddle in the darkened fern hut and slowly admire the camellias. Most days I stroll past the lily pond and rose garden, simply humming in anticipation of what Spring might bring.
Every day I take a book. Some days I read it. Some days I can’t bear to take my eyes away from everything around me.
Somehow, I always find myself standing by a babbling creek, listening to it rush life and water by.
My heart sings! My senses feast daily. I love this place. I always have. It has found me again.
In some unrealised way, I have come home.