Make My Day
Just back from seeing the sun rise on snowy peaks, wild rabbits playing, the first wildflowers.
I know. I sound like Madeline Basset* on a particularly bad day but spring in God's country can do that to you.
That's why I'm so glad that I have the suffering of Mark and other blog slaves to keep me grounded.
It just makes your day to know that you aren't one of them.
posted by Sherry W @ 8:07 AM
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1 Comments:
Here's a transcript from my journal describing a walk in the woods we took last summer when the Sheas were out in Colorado. I can't tell you how many conversations like this Sherry and I have had over the years:
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"Oh, look," she said. She was a confirmed Oh-looker. I had noticed this in Seattle, where she had drawn my attention in this manner on various occasions to such diverse objects as a French actress, a Snohomish filling station, the sunset over the Cascades, Michael Sweeney, a man selling coloured spectacles, the deep velvet blue of the Sound, and the late mayor of Everett in a striped one-piece bathing suit. "Oh, look at that sweet little star up there all by itself."
I saw the one she meant, a little chap operating in a detached sort of way above a spinney.
"Yes," I said.
"I wonder if it feels lonely."
"Oh, I shouldn't think so."
"A fairy must have been crying."
"Eh?"
"Don't you remember? 'Every time a fairy sheds a tear, a wee bit star is born in the Milky Way.' Have you ever thought that, Mr. Shea?"
I never had. Most improbable, I considered, and it didn't seem to me to check up with her statement that the stars were God's daisy chain. I mean, you can't have it both ways.
However, I was in no mood to dissect and criticize. I saw that I had been wrong in supposing that the stars were not germane to the issue. Quite a decent cue they had provided, and I leaped on it promptly: "Talking of shedding tears----"
But she was now on the subject of rabbits, several of which were messing about in the park to our right.
"Oh, look. The little bunnies!"
"Talking of shedding tears----"
"Don't you love this time of the evening, Mr. Shea, when the sun has gone to bed and all the bunnies come out to have their little suppers? When I was a child, I used to think that rabbits were gnomes, and that if I held my breath and stayed quite still, I should see the fairy queen."
Indicating with a reserved gesture that this was just the sort of loony thing I should have expected her to think as a child, I returned to the point.
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