The Kingdom
I bend a briar bough towards my face and pull a boysenberry off with my lips. Just one. A taste as I stand under the arching limbs of this friendly greenery. The sky is an absurd robin's egg blue with streaks of white cloud that look painted on with an oversized brush. Dragonflies are cruising the garden airspace. I remember how they liked to land on the teepee trellises last year, and I’m sorry I’ve let them down. I survey my jungle of pumpkins crawling large and low over the landscape. Every year, it is a different garden.
I follow a dragonfly's flight, and it guides my eyes upward towards that sky as it seeks a perch on the giant redwood that shelters the yard. A tenant squirrel looks back at me through a frame of branches, but I follow my winged sherpa up to astonishing heights. Before now, I’ve never contemplated how far into the blue a dragonfly might be capable of ascending. A scrub jay squawks from somewhere behind the green curtain of needle-like leaves. Their call always sounds like a question more than a statement to me. Jays end their caw on the upward inflection, whereas crows end on the downward.
“Me?” Asks a Jay.
“Me! Me! Me!” Hollers a crow.
But, no, not you, I answer. I’m looking at someone else. The dragonfly reaches the apex of the tree, then journeys down a few tiers, selecting a perch. This is a far grander haven than I could have provided with a trellis. Both benevolent monarch and green kingdom, this redwood tree. The creatures who dwell upon and attend it are happy subjects. To observe its green crown, I must bend my head back as far as I can. Sun warming my back, I study the regal pinnacle until my neck is uncomfortable. Putting my head back on straight, I leave the kingdom towering above me. I return to the ordinary.
Psssst. Heart this post so more people can discover the unique flavor of Jellied Gold on Substack! Then, tell me what color your soul is in the comments.