Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

Update Squiva Shoot:  Squiva had to leave the tree in order to go home, and I refused to carry her/him!  I snapped this photo, but of course I couldn't use it.  After all, Squiva is a union squirrel, and I agreed to certain regulations required by the National Union of The Squirrel.  Well, after a period of consideration to allow Squiva to calm down, I showed him or her the photo.   Squiva thought and thought, and looked at the tail.   At last, we made the deal

 have been told more than once that if I want to take photos of squirrels, I need to hire a union squirrel Finally, I found the listing for the local National Union of The Squirrel.  The price was very reasonable, and my squirrel did show up on time.  He or she called his or herself Squiva, and insisted on sitting in this particular tree;  Squiva would not budge over to the daffodils.  I feel certain Squiva was concerned for his or her tail.  I do have to say that when I agreed to cooperate, the shoot worked fairly well.  At least Squiva is smiling!

Don't sit under the magnolia tree, with anyone else but me!

Can you resist a dappled path?  I know I can't.  Just to imagine the coolness of the path, with the warm sunny  places. The spring smell in the air, and a petal floating away from an old cherry tree. 

The hunt is on! Where were they planted? Here, there? Down the hill, past the yellow tree, next to the fence by the smallest tree? But which smallest tree? Which fence? It's not as though you have a nice row with a stake holding up a seed packet! Thank goodness we put a chopstick next to some of them, but the wood chipper has been here. Could this be one of ours? And there it is--barely sticking up, bitten and short, but with 'volunteer' clearly etched in ballpoint. Can you believe it? How beautiful is our very own daffodil. I know lucky Wordsworth saw ten thousand at a glance but I can't think of anything more happy-making than a single, tall, slightly eaten daffodil of one's own.

How do you know it's spring at last?  I looked at the calendar and  wasn't sure, but then I saw the blue, blue sky reflected in a spring raindrop. 

The winter freeze has thawed, and it is time for a bit of spring.  I know it's premature, but I cannot resist a little indulgence in a clear, non-icy puddle.  Along the running path nearby, there's a favorite I have been watching for several years.  Graders come, land-levelers go, dirt arrives in piles nearby for shovelling.  My dear mudpuddle!  It survives them all.  And why not?  Beauty is a trancendental item. (Look carefully, and you will catch sight of new puddles just recently born)