My eyes drift towards our spacious window in the front room. It is wonderfully balmy summer morning. The windsock appropriately shaped like a fish responds to a gentle yet persistent Southeasterly. It is a Saturday morning before the neighbors have awakened from their week of labor and responsibility; it is, therefore, amazingly peaceful for a street on this relatively quiet neighborhood. The breeze stirs the many dazzling blossoms as they grasp and hold the mysteries of the solar magician rising in the Eastern sky. These blossoms, however, did not appear by magic; their presence is a product of Julia’s persistent skill and wondrous imagination.
The birds are stirring as they queue up for their turn at the feeder. A squirrel is darting among the aged branches of an elderly plum tree whose productivity of Italian prunes has diminished over the years much like my own. Our neighbor has reported the sighting of a mischievous rabbit investigating our meager offerings.
The day ahead looms with its promise, surprises, elation and potential disappointments. I will attempt to greet it head-on; I am more than a little thankful of the manner in which my lungs masterfully grasp the air and extract from it the oxygen that all my cells cry out for and that my heart still manages to faithfully pump throughout my body so that my eyes may partake of the majesty of this earth as my brain shapes these few words to express my boundless appreciation.
