So I drove up to my favorite park last night, a place that feeds my soul like almost no other, and will do so until it gets warm and the darn kids take it over so they can loll on the tiny beach there and be loud and run off old farts like me who go there for the quiet. Darn kids. There were darn kids there last night and one of them kept yelling the most inane things, and for a while I thought he was on the wacky weed or something. Now I think it was just hormones and stupid teenage boy syndrome.
Anyway–so I went up there and was just gobsmacked to see the trees in full leaf. When did that happen? and how did I miss it? I’m not saying I want to rewind to when they were still completely bare so I can pay better attention to them coming into leaf, but damn, I hate having missed some of it.
Still, I love this time of year. I love the intense green of the growing things, I love the dandelions turning their sunny little faces up everywhere (yep, I love me some dandelions. They are not weeds in my book), I love love love the longer days, the mellow evenings, I love being able to be outside until 9:00 or later and it’s still light out. I love being barefoot. I love the sunsets. I wish I had someone to share all of this with, too, making it all a little bittersweet, but oh, I love this time of year.
Here’s something I’ve been thinking about, and liking very much: I truly like that I have the ability to take pleasure in small things, like mowing a lawn or seeing cheery dandelions massing across a field of green, or the simplest of knitting stitches, or a sunset.
I’m wishing you pleasure in small things today.
ETA: Just ran across this quote, and though it’s no small thing, I wanted to share it. Mr. F often told me that I let him be himself, and I think for the most part, I did. I’ve never quite understood why someone would choose a partner only to want to change him. I mostly loved his quirks, because those are what made him who he was–a unique individual.