Where do you have your morning coffee?

Where do you have your morning coffee or tea? I see all of the beautiful patios and decks in magazines, but I have neither. My little corner of the world is behind the backyard tool shed and across from the greenhouse.
If you look closely you will see the swing  I sit each morning after the last frost of the spring and before the first frost of winter. 
The plants come out of the greenhouse and take their summer homes in the sunshine. It doesn't start out 

this way. They come out a few at a time depending on how fragile they are. I'm not the one with the green thumb. Thank goodness someone here can grow things.

I was always taught, or maybe it is folklore, that before we all wore shoes we were healthier. In ancient times people didn't wear shoes and contact with the earth helped with common medical problems.
Is it true? I haven't a clue. I do, however, sit in the swing and let my bare toes rest in the grass beneath me, and wiggle them like a child.
If you look closely you will notice there are veggies mixed in with the flowers and plants. There are peppers, tomatoes, and even a pineapple.

The farm is quiet in the morning. The sheep are still sleeping in the barn and the cows have not yet started bellowing to see if it might get them some grain. I guess hay gets boring. 
It would be nice to know where you spend your coffee time.

Something that is fun is to get a pineapple from the grocery store and save the top. Set it in water until it roots and then plant it. 
Hint: It takes awhile.

Take a moment and leave a comment about your morning ritual. I will sign off now with a few more pictures. 

Have a marvelous week. 

Follow a Butterfly

Follow a butterfly. Did you know every culture beginning with the ancients believed the butterfly to be the sign of a human soul?

Aristotle named them psyche which means soul.

I believe children, if left to think their own thoughts, know the truth about many things.  Last summer we went on vacation with the Grandkids.  Everywhere we went, a swallowtail butterfly tagged along. 

When we swam in the lake, the swallowtail fluttered about the deck. As we took a boat ride, it sat on the bow. Later we spied it on our walk. It flew in front of us four or five times and rested on a nearby bush and watched us have a picnic. Was it the same winged angel who covered great distances to follow my granddaughter? Maybe it was two or three or even ten who covered the activities of the day.

She said she didn't know where it stayed while she was in school, but it greeted her daily at her home, the soccer field, or her girl scout meeting in the evenings.

I listened but didn't say much. Who am I, I thought, to say what is real and what is imagined in his magnificent mystery we call life?

It didn't matter how many places we explored or miles we covered, Sydney's winged companion followed her.

"That butterfly is my mommy watching over me." She told us more than once. 

Being a realist, I asked her  "...in the fall who will look after you in the winter when the butterfly has gone away?"

Her answer-- "A cardinal Grandma. They are visitors from heaven."

I never see a butterfly that I don't remember my Molly who left us last year or the love I feel for both of them.

What a caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly. 

a quote from Richard Bach.