Often, on late summer afternoons, when it’s not too humid, I will sit on my back deck and  observe life happening around me.

I’ll get a strange sort of pleasure watching the leaves in nearby treetops, some up to five stories high, rustle in the breeze.

Half-ton trucks, too old for their owners to carry collision, will occasionally cruise up and down the alley, releasing occupants to inspect dumpsters or abandoned furniture, looking for scrap metal or household items that might be taken home or sold.

I’ll peer into nearby yards and observe young children cooling off in blow-up pools or sprinklers and teen-aged girls stretching out in metal framed recliners, listening to the radio. LOUDLY.

Where I live, front yards might showcase gardens; the result of a homeowner’s time and passion or their bank account and the vision of their landscaper. The variety of living things and commitment people make to put something beautiful out into the world touches me.

But, a lot of life happens in backyards, too.

Generally, what happens behind a backdoor or alongside a garage are private. When I sit on my second floor deck and look into the yard two doors away, I consider that it’s more a feeling of privilege than unauthorized viewing. After all, the people in the yard can see me, too.

For a few minutes, I feel like part of their family.

Yes, I can get riled up over how loud some of my neighbors might turn up their radios. Songs from Vampire Weekend, which I generally like, can grate as much as unnamed Tejano music, whose lyrics I don’t understand, when a tune is played repeatedly.

But, I love watching summertime gatherings come together. Now that it’s July, it seems that I am treated to a family gathering every weekend.

There might be occasions for celebration, like birthdays and graduations. There also doesn’t need to be any reason except the impulse to be surrounded by love and sharing.

There doesn’t need to be planned activities, or even much coordination. When people who want to have a good time come together, they usually have a GOOD TIME.

I love summertime potlucks in the backyard.

I’ve observed the scene two yards to the east of mine and I’ve been to my share of backyard barbecues.

I realize that my affection comes largely from the standpoint of consumer. For a meal where everyone contributes a dish, potlucks offer: great variety, a wonderful feeling of surprise (you don’t know what to expect yet you anticipate being delighted by whatever is laid out on the table), and an incredible feeling of abundance (there’s always more food than is needed for everyone to fill their stomach.

There’s also a mysterious phenomenon that seems to come with this type of get together. They always come out perfectly, Maybe someone runs out to get more ice during the evening, but it’s a very relaxed affair.

There is a great feeling of acceptance with this kind of experience that feels like a good approach to life; to accept things as being perfect the way they are.

I also decided to look at this kind of gathering as a host, not just a consumer, regardless of whose backyard the event is in. I’ve been contemplating the wonder of this mindset.

At any gathering, I always want to welcome people in such a way that they feel their presence is important. I hope to always pay attention to expressing how much everyone’s contributions matter, whether they bring kick-ass guacamole from hand-mashed avocados or chocolate chip cookies from the store.

In some way, I’m always hosting.  I like to think everyone is.

We can always give attention to helping people feel welcome. We can always express how much anyone’s unique contribution adds to everyone’s experience.

Appreciating what everyone has to offer is no small thing.