Tracey calls our place “the postage stamp” because that’s what it must look like from 500 feet above ground. She’s right – with the walls around us that’s exactly what it must look like.

It’s shortly before midnight as I’m writing this post. The air temperature is 77 degrees, the pool temp is 77 degrees, and there’s not a lick of breeze in the air. After my 1 1/2 mile walk nearly two hours ago, I wasn’t ready to take a dip in the pool, so I’m showered, shaved, brushed, and lounging here in my wicker chair listening to the melancholy, sentimental sounds of Scott Joplin rags played by Bach Scholar. He does a very nice job on them.

It truly is a beautiful night here on the patio. No real heat yet, but that’s coming soon enough. I’ve got the pineapple lights off, so it’s just me, the ceiling fan lazily stirring the air above me, the Mutant speakers with their happy blue lights playing Joplin softly in the background, and several birds making sounds in the night from a neighbor’s tree. I just heard one of them flapping its wings and landing on the queen palm just yards away in front of me, but I’m not sure what kind of bird it was.

For a moment, the sound of the birds took me back in time to a night many years ago when, during Holy Week, I volunteered to spend a few hours in the middle of the night at my Episcopal church at that time to staff our annual “night watch with Jesus” (between the end of the Maundy Thursday service and the start of the Good Friday noonday service). That night, all was quiet around me except for the sound of a single bird chirping loudly outside. The sense of God’s presence both inside and outside the church moved me deeply at that time, and I had completely forgotten about the moment until now.

A plane on its approach to Sky Harbor Airport passes over me. Over the speakers comes my favorite Joplin rag, “Solace”. Between the night, the music, the birds, the ceiling fan, the beautiful patio, and the the Johnny Walker Red in my hand (three fingers, one ice cube), I cannot remember a time when I felt so much at peace within, and with the world around me (even though it’s hardly peaceful). It’s a blessing, and I thank God for this precious moment in time.

I feel very, very fortunate indeed.