I turn the lock to open, push down the upper pane to chin-rest height, and lean thereon, chin and hands, to breathe the sparkling air for a moment. And another moment… And still one moment more.
I realize I’m smiling.
Some things just make me do that. Spontaneously….
… bracing air refreshing my breathing after I’ve been cooped too long…
… fresh snow falling light around my face. (The little girl in me still smiles at this even when the sight begins to weary others.)
… rushing sound across the road, of stone-licking creek-water, swollen by thaw of snow and rain and sleet and slush. (I lean out to hear it better.)
… buzzy song of “chickadee-dee-dee” hopping in the evergreen, or hanging upside down on the suet cage
… tracks making patterns in the white.
… and bountiful showers of the fluffy stuff, like a couple days ago, coming down so full and heavy someone startles with, “Look out the window!” And you do, and think you’re living in a snow globe…
Simple pleasures, winter wonders, all.
Thanks to the Maker of all good things.
And thanks for the awareness of the slow smile they bring, for this is the kind that often goes unnoticed by the smiler.
What simple pleasures make you smile—when maybe you’re not even aware?