Yesterday. A mid-March kind of day in January. One of those days that makes us breathe deeply, still grateful after six years that Iowa winters are behind us, in another life. Still amazed to look across the road and see that endless stretch of blue mountains.
Laurel and Duncan in the pear tree. My little girl in flowered rainboots shouts, "I'm the queen of the tree!" My little boy in bright red Chucks ("Cons" nowadays) replies, "Well, I'm the prince of the tree!" "I'm the Mama of the most precious children in the world!" I shout back to them. The wind kicks up leaves and a train whistles in the distance.
I love the curve of the sidewalk here at the front porch. I love the chipping red paint and the potential at this spot. Someday I will line the sidewalk with marigolds and zinnias. Sometime bountiful hanging baskets will grace my front porch, and I'll sit in a rocker and watch the mountains change colors.
But for now, there's a little boy with a handful of tiny hard pears and the warm sun on my head. For now there's a pup chewing a stick and a mockingbird in the cherry tree. For now there are daffodils thinking it's March, and a sky as blue as my mother's eyes.
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