The Morning Lolo Fig Arrives Early

One morning, the garden wakes before the sun is fully ready.
The air is cool and quiet, and the sky is still deciding what color it wants to be.
Clarabela is already at the window.
She sits tall, her tail wrapped neatly around her paws, watching the garden with the seriousness of someone responsible for very important observations.
Matilda joins her.
“Is something happening?” she asks.
Clarabela does not look away from the trees.
“Someone is late,” she says.
Matilda blinks.
“Late?”
Clarabela nods slowly.
“Lolo Fig.”
Matilda looks toward the branches. Just then, a flash of red appears in the soft morning light.
Lolo Fig lands gracefully on the feeder.
Clarabela’s whiskers tilt forward.
“He is not late, he is early.” Matilda whispers.
Clarabela tilts her head.
Lolo Fig hops once along the feeder and begins selecting seeds with great care, as if the morning belongs entirely to him.
The garden slowly wakes around him.
A breeze moves the branches.
Somewhere in the distance, another bird answers his song.
Clarabela watches every movement.
Matilda smiles quietly, because sometimes the best part of the morning is simply being there when the first visitor arrives.
And sometimes the garden begins the day with a small red bird.

With whiskers and stitches,
Clarabela & Matilda Purrfect 🤍