I took a drive through some countryside this morning, having to run a few errands in a town 40 miles away. Weather-wise, the morning was glorious: sunny, 66 degrees, spring perfection. I was in a contemplative mood I guess, taking in my surroundings with great interest. I drove along with the radio on, in blissful solitude but for Harry curled and sighing in the passenger seat.
I've never been much of a Hallmark Movie Channel fan. The films shown are a bit too sappy for me: Notes From The Heart Healer, Kiss At Pine Lake, Taste of Romance, etc. Lovey-dovey stuff that isn't my cup of tea. There was one movie on this week, though, that caught my attention. I didn't watch it, but I was drawn to the title: The Magic of Ordinary Days. That's what today felt like. Fields with miles of yellow flowers that were not (I think) dandelions; tractors pulling plows through chocolate soil; horses lazing in meadows; windmills turning. Trees are finally budding out after a strange hot-cold-wet-cool April and, today, tulips were blooming in front yards. In one spot along the way I saw a twinkling lake, reminding me of a long-ago friend who referred to such scenes as "sparkly water days," like some god had flung a million diamonds on the surface. The sky was blue, the clouds were puffy, and I was happy for no good reason, just driving along with my little dog, senses wide open, glad to be breathing.
An ordinary day filled with magic. I'm not sure I can ask for much more than that. I'm not sure any of us can.
2 comments:
Like it. The way I feel driving through Chenango county on a beautiful summer day.
That's just what I was doing. A strange phenomenon: with age comes appreciation for crops. I used to listen to my parents carry on about fields and think why in the world do they care what the corn looks like? Now...I can't get enough.
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