Dragonflies are out again, moving like fast little helicopters across the tops of the mowed grass and hovering above fishing pole tips, as I and a few family members fished this morning. Zebras next door (yes, you read that right) continue to stand for hours behind the tall fence gazing at the pastures as if longing to be somewhere else. I usually see them several times a week now.

The winds have made an otherwise warm, early July morning here in Texas almost comfortable. The biting insects are at least tolerable once again, although the chiggers still like to bite my ankles if I spend much time out in the grass. I feel as thankful as ever to be exactly where I am, though there are days when I long for adventure beyond this home.

It is easy to become blind to what is right in front of you at times. I blame this on routine more than boredom. When I look around I see the hundreds of native plants to classify and learn about and all of the wildlife to observe, I wonder about those now gone.

When I think about life’s successes and failures on this planet, I try to imagine how many lives have passed so that we might continue. I can’t help but think there have been more lives lost in nature to time than there are stars in the sky; that’s how important we should be to one another.