Tootfinder

The washing machine is thrumming along in the laundry. First load. I wander out the back door. Outside, it's damp but not raining. A currawong sits on a rock awaiting the morning's largesse. I pour out a small cupful of seed onto the feeder. On my way back, I pause by the sunken bathtub (repurposed as a planter). It is overflowing with luscious mint plants made extra vibrant by the overnight rain. I pick a single leaf and inhale. Its scent is glorious. Another sunday in suburbia.