Sometimes, just before drifting off, I'll recall what flavored my day. Something always does.
For example: Crossing State Street toward Wilson's Antiques I'd passed a miniature dachshund sitting upright in a low-slung stroller, gazing confidently around. His owner, a casually dressed man, pushed his charge while chatting with companions. A neatly printed sign attached to the stroller's frame read, "It's better than being stepped on." That happy, interested animal teased smiles from everyone who passed.
Today 10 tiny tots walked slowly by my home holding special ropes, paired off. One tethered woman led, with one behind. Curiously, there was no chatter, only looking, mostly down; they'd routinely experienced everyday miracles right under their feet at home, and knew to look close. Everything was a fresh amazement to these infants.
Watching, I recalled my own astonishment at that age, in the simplest things. A trip to our tiny neighborhood grocery store was a huge adventure. With one hand in my patient mother's, wearing a little bonnet to shield my eyes, I'd toddle along at a snail's pace, constantly squatting to examine leaves, bugs, sticks, crickets, even bright copper pennies. I'd exclaim, and offer each wonder to her; she'd share my delight. That one-block trip always took a long time. Afternoon naps were filled with dreams reliving my discoveries.
Then there were the twins, about 2, blissfully licking double-decker strawberry cones by the downtown fountain. Much of the ice cream had traveled from hands to elbows; smeared faces, hair and clothes sniffed of strawberry -- and another, stronger odor emanating from their diapers. They didn't mind. Their amused parents watched in fascination, then mopped up, ineffectively. There were no squawks about messes, only relaxed adults enjoying their children's enjoyment.
Weed-hunting this morning, something blue caught my eye. I gasped, then looked closer; darned if it wasn't a gorgeous BLUE pill bug! Blue as the sky on a perfect day. At my touch it promptly rolled into a ball. Whoever heard of such a thing! I popped it onto the kitchen table, where it eventually unrolled and walked about, curious. Later, when I'd reluctantly released it in the same place, "Blue" mingled with its plainer folk, none the worse for being kidnapped. (I know, I know ... but everybody's 'thrill-o-meter' is adjusted differently. This sort of thing toots my horn.)
To mark that discovery I biked to Mabel's restaurant, where, along with good food, they serve up lovely music -- no howlers, or thump-thump rock. It's the only place I know where familiar classics, from Satchmo's "Wonderful World," to classical orchestral gems, deliciously season my mood.
Last night I awoke, retching -- SKUNK! Gasping and gagging I staggered to the window, frantically shut it, grabbed the bathroom's air freshener, sprayed liberally, then staggered downstairs to look outside. There, foraging peacefully on the front lawn for worms and bugs, was Mademoiselle Phew. Her magnificent tail curved confidently above her body as she delicately poked around. Cat, out hunting, had probably set her off.
What a fate. I simply couldn't fathom how that poor thing lived with herself. I noted that she traveled alone -- well, duh. But, oddly, she made me smile; her beauty would surely attract a hunky mate, even though -- or because -- he'd stink horribly, too.
Mama Nature certainly does find interesting ways to express herself.
Drifting off, I recalled one more thing. A boy, holding a thickly frosted cupcake, sat in the main garden yesterday. First he methodically licked off its chocolate topping, then delightedly devoured the rest. Finally, eyes closed, he licked every finger, grinning.
Life can taste so good.
Dee Blair's Sunnybank Gardens are closed for the season. Visit her Web site, www.deeblair.com for more information. Find more of her columns online at record-eagle.com/deeblair.
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