As I considered what to write about today, I began to recall some of the quiet joys I'd experience the previous day. There was that warming cup of coffee as I swayed on the front porch swing, watching the sun climb into the sky.
I felt again that deep satisfaction of bending over a garden bed, pulling persistent weeds. Later that evening, I caught the sight of a pair of mourning doves as they splashed in the birdbath's water. Although we've heard their soft cooing from nearby trees for years, this is the first year a pair has made the habit of visiting each evening about the same time.
Earlier that day, I looked up from the kitchen sink just in time to see a rabbit scoot across the open area in the far back yard. We don't see them as frequently as we used to when we had a vegetable garden. One morning a couple years back, my husband returned with the announcement he'd just seen five rabbits enjoying the fruits of our labors. Oh, I know they are still nearby--the lettuce plants I set in planters by my office door showed visible evidence of their nibbling.
Dusk is usually when the chattering of bluebirds becomes most pronounced. My husband built several nesting boxes constructed to their specific needs and mounted them on scattered trees about the property. One hung on a pole at eye-level and it's been fun to peek in and watch the progress of four babies. Another box, according to my husband's report, has been taken over by flying squirrels. Since they are nocturnal creatures, I just have to take his word for it; I've never been bold enough to wander out after dark to see for myself.
As you may have guessed by now, it doesn't take much to make me happy. Perhaps, as they say, it's true--the older you get, the wiser you become.