Today, though very hot, is brilliantly sunny here in Knoxville. I went out for a walk through the neighborhood and took time to notice a couple of things. Someone had a tree filled with pink berries which were spilling onto the sidewalk. I took note of how beautifully the pink of the berries lay against the soft green of the leaves. This particular house has a lush, well-kept landscape. Once when I walked past, I saw the homeowner on her knees working hard at something in her pretty yard. Today when I passed I remembered something I heard on a Christian radio show this week..."Perfection is not possible, but excellence is." So true.
A little path leads from our neighborhood pool along the back of the neighborhood. It eventually hooks to the walking path beside a busy road. Before you hit the road, you walk next to a quiet stream. I saw a few small golden leaves escape their tree and aimlessly meander to the ground. Fall, with all its majestic glory in the Smokies, is on its way. I will buy a little outdoor fire bowl and roast marshmallows this year. I am sure I will hike in the mountains.
The little joys in life have always held a particular solace for me. I revel in them! I remember the thrill of a new set of jacks on a summer day. Other kids might have been honing their chess skills, but, no matter, I was clumsily collecting those jacks between ball bounces on the driveway. While other kids may have been reading the adult classics, preparing for an Ivy League education, I was munching on "Nancy Drew," on those long, languid Saturdays before the internet. I held my breath when danger was near, and worked to solve the puzzle in my head before the book bore it out. I would not change a thing about my propensity to be very, very ordinary, and to hug those innocent joys to my heart all of the time.
I continue to carve out time to wallow in the basics of life. When I can't I get antsy for the opportunity. I hear the tinkling of fairy bells in my head when I finish a latch hook rug. It's magical to me that an image that was on paper is now on my canvas and, had I not taken the time to fasten all of the yarn in, that image would never have appeared. I got really excited when I took a kit that had moldered in someone's attic for decades, applied my time and effort and there emerged a mama bear and her cub hiding in a blueberry alcove.
I guess I probably enjoy animals so much because they represent the magic of God's creation in great diversity. When my little rabbit stands on his hind legs, he is instantly forgiven for only coming close enough to tantalize me before scurrying away. Watching my calico cat sleep, her tiny pink triangle of a nose motionless, her interesting patches of orange and gray tabby at rest makes my blood pressure lower instantly. I can imagine that when she was born, the one white leg with the oval of black and gray tabby was a pleasure to her Creator.
I am not saying I don't enjoy a symphony, or a wonderful meal at a nice restaurant. However, on the whole I am quite enamored of the simple things. You can have your champagne and caviar. I will enjoy my coffee on the screened porch.
A little path leads from our neighborhood pool along the back of the neighborhood. It eventually hooks to the walking path beside a busy road. Before you hit the road, you walk next to a quiet stream. I saw a few small golden leaves escape their tree and aimlessly meander to the ground. Fall, with all its majestic glory in the Smokies, is on its way. I will buy a little outdoor fire bowl and roast marshmallows this year. I am sure I will hike in the mountains.
The little joys in life have always held a particular solace for me. I revel in them! I remember the thrill of a new set of jacks on a summer day. Other kids might have been honing their chess skills, but, no matter, I was clumsily collecting those jacks between ball bounces on the driveway. While other kids may have been reading the adult classics, preparing for an Ivy League education, I was munching on "Nancy Drew," on those long, languid Saturdays before the internet. I held my breath when danger was near, and worked to solve the puzzle in my head before the book bore it out. I would not change a thing about my propensity to be very, very ordinary, and to hug those innocent joys to my heart all of the time.
I continue to carve out time to wallow in the basics of life. When I can't I get antsy for the opportunity. I hear the tinkling of fairy bells in my head when I finish a latch hook rug. It's magical to me that an image that was on paper is now on my canvas and, had I not taken the time to fasten all of the yarn in, that image would never have appeared. I got really excited when I took a kit that had moldered in someone's attic for decades, applied my time and effort and there emerged a mama bear and her cub hiding in a blueberry alcove.
I guess I probably enjoy animals so much because they represent the magic of God's creation in great diversity. When my little rabbit stands on his hind legs, he is instantly forgiven for only coming close enough to tantalize me before scurrying away. Watching my calico cat sleep, her tiny pink triangle of a nose motionless, her interesting patches of orange and gray tabby at rest makes my blood pressure lower instantly. I can imagine that when she was born, the one white leg with the oval of black and gray tabby was a pleasure to her Creator.
I am not saying I don't enjoy a symphony, or a wonderful meal at a nice restaurant. However, on the whole I am quite enamored of the simple things. You can have your champagne and caviar. I will enjoy my coffee on the screened porch.
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