A Lazy Summer Day In Paradise.

About halfway from Mabton to Wapato, on the old Wapato road, in the Yakima Valley, a stream coming out of a wetland area crosses under the road and under a railroad trestle that runs parallel with the road. A lonely stretch of road, far from any houses. Russian olives line the road and mint fields lie all around. The air is redolent with their fragrance. As a young boy, I used to love to hike out to that area and climb down to the stream and sit under the rail road trestle. There was a small beach there of sand, about three feet by 12 feet. I would sit cross legged by the stream, listening to the hum of insects and birdcall, bathed in the shafts of sunlight streaming down through the railroad trestles. I  could sit so still that birds would land close to me, and once a rattler crossed right in front of me, stopping for a second,  tasting the air with his darting tongue. Curiously, I felt no fear of him.
I would sit so still in that little alternate universe, that I could quiet my mind and just melt into the stilness of the wild. Perfectly content. Peaceful..And today more peaceful than usual.  Suddenly, with a roar and a crashing riot of noise out of nowhere, a train came crashing past overhead in a great thundering rush, seemingly rattling the whole world, jarring the peacefullness of my scene.. the dust of the passing train sifting down, made visible by the slanting shafts of sunlight.. Then just as suddenly, it was gone.. and stillness returned, multiplied by the sudden cessation of the thunder of the passing train..I was surprised by how silence can be emphasized. Through the shafts of sunlight, a single white feather slowly spiraled down as though in syrup.The sight of it caused a tickling in my scalp and an electric thrill ran up my spine..I remember watching its slow spiral and thinking that if the world stopped at that moment that it probably wouldn't matter, because I really didn't see how it could get any better. The feather landed in the stream and floated away. I thought for a moment about retreiving it as a memento of the moment. But then thought, 'why disturb its sacred journey to satisfy a  whim'? Then the birds resumed their song and the insects added harmony carried on the fragrance of Russian Olives, and I thought, "Well, maybe it can get better.." :o)
Nature never plays the same tune twice and there are so many more yet to hear.