Hubbie had a difficult time locating it but you would have to have a keen eye to spot it because after all it is tiny. There, I pointed, look, I said, it's so beautiful. A simple snowdrop had emerged.
...and I say only a thank you for my family, for the way we sit at the table and talk and for the cosy house, the house in the country that keeps out the howling winds and the cold rain.
Precious day. Thank you day. Thank you for the sunshine on the budding leaves and the golden erotic daffodils shining in the light breeze. Thank you day for my life.
The sweetness of Summer has already graced the kitchen countertop in the form of fresh Oregano plucked from the garden.
I had forgotten that feeling of eating outdoors. The sun of evening time still warm on my back.
A lark is singing. A clear lark. My father loved larks. When we walked together he often stopped and called my attention to the sound. I took no heed until today. I remembered him today.
..and my fourteen year old son continues to brush Missy's coat until it shines in the late afternoon sun.
I haven't danced in a long time, possibly years. You know that feeling, spreading out your limbs in wild angles around the dining room table. I think I danced today to celebrate my new found freedom in this life.
The fog lifted around noon and the grey mist gave rise to a pure blue sky that lifted the spirits and had me head for the clothes line.
Weeds appear between the paving stones that I will never pull and the flower bed wilts and yawns itself to sleep. Though, there have to be beginnings in the midst of the endings.
The one good thing about having the flu is that I can stay in out of the cold wet day and don sweat pants and a massive shapeless cardigan that hangs below my knees and I get to drink tea and listen to Bach.
...but he did see the shooting stars, didn't he? He saw them as I had all those years ago.