The sweet smell of country grasses and the music of nature as clouds drift overhead spark my imagination. An unexpected friend pokes his head out from the blades of tall grass, for a moment we judge each other - a friend we both surmise and carry on. Unlike the grey mice that end up in the traps that Mom sets out when the weather gets cold, this one is smaller and brown like those in the picture books Dad read to me. I watch as he climbs a golden blade of grass and fills his cheeks with the seeds at the very top of each. His world is so small in this field of flowers and grasses. A million, no, a billion blades of grass and here he is making his home where I rest taking in the clouds and blue sky. A hawk circles above looking for my new friend. He, too, sees the hawk and races down the blade of grass he’s on with his cheeks rounded with seeds. He disappears back into this small world of his.
In the distance a black bird warns me from a weathered fence post to keep my distance. As best I can, I add my new friend to my other friends in my sketchbook, but not too close to the garden snake that lives in Ms. Martin’s garden. Even in my sketchbook I like to keep my friends safe.
