Spectacularly Ordinary

Every once in a while, I have one of those days that is just perfect. Sometimes, it almost feels a bit surreal, like watching myself in an old movie or sitcom. Nothing spectacular happened, yet many times during the day I thought to myself how spectacular something ordinary, was.

The morning was gorgeous. Birds playing in the giant weeping cherry tree branches outside my window. The sun just starting to peek over the trees in the yard, a cool crisp breeze. Now I will admit my first cup of coffee WAS spectacular. Brewed just right and with the perfect amount of cream and sugar; it almost felt indulgent to drink it. I was the first person up, even Brutus and Bella were still sleeping upstairs. I sat in the living room and began my morning ritual of readings and prayer. It was so quiet and still and everything I read seemed to be speaking directly to me. It is in those moments that I feel as if I am in the presence of God..

After some errands, I was finally able to get out into my yard and gardens. Everything is in full bloom and years of hard work has finally paid off into a mature and healthy garden. Everything was thirsty though so the hose and me slowly made the circumference of my yard. When I am watering, I am so relaxed, watching the water pool at the base of each plant, I can just imagine the roots underneath, drinking up the water and flushing it to the blooms. As I was watering, a beautiful red cardinal landed nearby and hopped towards the spray of water. He, too, was thirsty and dry. he skirted around and played in the stream for several minutes... enchanting. I have heard that when you are visited by a single cardinal, that it is the spirit of someone that has passed gracing you. Maybe mom? She loved to garden, too. The thought of that made me smile. My Clematis vine is just starting to bloom, the flowers were wide open to the sunlight. As the afternoon began to fade into dusk, the blooms silently started to close for their evening slumber. I felt that if I could just stand there long enough, I would actually be able to see them close.

As evening closed in, the sounds of children playing through the neighborhood was blurred with laughing and talking by the adults at cookouts and parties. Slowly the dark was illuminated by the distant twinkle lights of patios and decks, and bright orange glows of bonfires that could be seen through the trees. I felt I had been lifted up and placed in a documentary of "Memorial Day Weekend in Anytown, USA".

As my day winds down and my bath and bed beckon, I still am wearing the half smile I have worn all day.

Sometimes the most ordinary days are the most spectacular ones.