Mr. Spit made me supper and then I went and sat in my garden this, carefully not thinking about the work still to be done (although it’s work I like, it’s still work) and not thinking about the grass, which is deader than dead. (very expensive patented grass stuff does not appear to be working)
I sat in my Adirondack chair, with a cup of coffee and a very good book, and I smelled my neighbour’s mayday tree. I listened to the birds, I looked at the plants coming up, admired my tulips and daffodils and I watched a lady bug crawl across the table.
There are moments in my life that I sit and wonder what I could have done to deserve such riches. It was a very perfect night.