for the first morning in forever, i was able to walk the puppies wearing only a t-shirt, shorts, and sandals. the air was still heavy with last night's rain, mist drifted off the mum fields. the bullfrogs croaked and the woodpeckers drilled a counterpoint to the raucous chorus of crows and catbirds, and not a ripple of gooseflesh stippled my skin.
by six oclock, as i write this, the sky is already blue. against a backdrop of bright spring green, the flowers preen every shade of purple and pink and yellow and red and blue. the crabapple on the other side of the driveway is blooming.
it's sunday, and even the puppies are snoring again. i took my coffee on the deck and listened to the water bubble over the fall, watched the spears of sunlight stream through pine-branches like black lace. no window at chartres or notre dame or anywhere else, for that matter, ever glowed with more exquisite grace.
in this little piece of paradise, it could be hard to imagine that there are places where the world seems not so sweet. but i remember too many mornings when i was not so grateful to be alive.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.