Happiness is not something that I feel often, not the kind of deep happiness that settles over one and brings a sense of profound contentment and well-being. For the past hour or so I have been intensely aware of this. It started to descend, for all silly reasons, toward the end of my rebuilding my computer – knowing that a job is near the end. From this, extrapolations into just the pleasures of doing, seeing, living. Right now, my life is incredibly simple. I have a week off, and the weather is gorgeous – warm and sunny with a gentle breeze moving through the hills. Birds are singing. Josh’s birthday is Friday, and there are nectarines ripening on the countertop for his birthday pie. I’m listening to a novel that is entertaining and frightening because of the historical period in which it occurs, the main character is interesting. I’m finishing up a second baby sweater for a friend expecting twin grandsons in a few days or weeks. In my little corner of the world there is peace.
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Ink, Yarn & Beer 