At last. A perfect day. Woke up to snow and dark clouds and that wonderful hush that only comes with snow. The boys are not thrilled--nothing like snow on the manly bits--though I'm very pleased we're not going down the mountain today. After breakfast I put together the ingredients for turkey soup and it's now simmering away in the crock pot--and thankfully, that's the last of the bird.
Contentment isn't a feeling that comes often, is it? It's one of those fleeting emotions, like being blissfully happy or totally at ease, emotions we have to treasure and savor because the gods will be jealous and won't hesitate to ruin it for us.
Today I am content. The house is warm, the soup smells delicious, the dogs are napping, and I'm alive, to watch snow fall and birds peck at seeds and deer munch on the tall grass across the road.
Today I am content. Because the snow has made everything pure and clean. It doesn't matter that underneath the illusion lurks the reality of melting snow and dirty slush. Right now, in the soft, pristine beauty of this moment...magic surrounds me.
I believe I am often content. Does that mean something's wrong with me?
ReplyDeleteThat's a lovely snow picture. Enjoy the soup.
No, it means you've found your place...lucky man.
DeleteMaking Kentucky biscuits in a minute, then yum, time for the soup...