A peaceful Sunday around here. I headed out for a long walk (aiming for eight, but missed the marker to turn around and ended up with nine), and it was interesting to note I was almost the only walker out. Lots of runners, lots of cyclists in their neon spandex (and kudos to every cyclist with a bell–thank you so much).
Walking is a quiet thing. Meditative. No dogs today, since I exhausted them a few days ago, and I needed to get a very long walk in to check out my new shoes. My walking partner has fallen in love and has been a bit scarce. I brought my Ipod and listened to music in one ear, nature (and bike bells) in the other. Admired the river, running beneath snow and melting ice. Hoped to see a fox, or perhaps a coyote, and instead saw a whole flock of blue jays, who wheeled around preening for me.
Both of my sons called. One wanted to talk politics, with all due passion, and I enjoyed it. The other one called to laugh about something on television. I cooked a beautiful lasagna for supper, with all organic everything, which CR will eat over the next couple of months on his long run days.
And then tonight, that beautiful a mountain-shaped cloud, edged with the setting sun, rounding out a pretty much perfect day.
What makes a day perfect for you?
2 thoughts on “Sweet Sunday Beauties”
Oooh Barb, you bait me…and I gleefully take it. I can’t answer this in one little paragraph…grant me grace for just a minute. Or two.
A perfect day for me…a perfect day is when the Muse is not in some far off place, hoarding her treasures, keeping secrets from me. Sometimes the Muse can be spiteful. But sometimes, she’s generous. A perfect day is when she returns, spreading her arms open wide, dropping glittery presents at my feet. In this scenario, she hisses, “See what I brought to you? Open! OPEN!”
Can I refuse? I think not.
A perfect day for me…leisurely, languid, golden, the words gliding off my fingers onto the page. There is no effort. A perfect day is when I know this is what I was meant to do, regardless of what anyone says, to drop words out on paper and love the characters totally so that a reader will love them too.
The days are growing longer now and I don’t feel quite so much like a mole. Very soon, the air will smell like warm mud and the promise of growing things. The rains will come, pungent, sweet and full of new life…and then the perfect days will begin again in another season. We’ve just passed Embolc – As dusk gathered, I lit a candle and said a little prayer. Don’t let me forget to be grateful.
A perfect day for me can mean so many things…laughter, good food, good wine and many friends, the smiles of my sons, the touch of a loved one, the scent of rosemary, oregano and thyme in my garden…sunlight and shadows, a perfect margarita, the smell of fresh cut grass…things that may seem simple indeed but bring the heart home.
Yvonne, what a delight that post is! Yes, there is a lot of joy when the Muse arrives with arms full of presents, too.