Posts Tagged With: Sunday

Sunday Afternoon Magic

So, here I sit out front, fuzzy black slippers on, in my porch swing. My computer sitting on my lap. I thought, maybe, being outdoors would somehow prompt some inspiration or insight or intelligence. All “in” words, which is contrary to being “out” here.

photo-19 copy 17

If you look closely you can see a reflection in the water.

Still, there’s something comforting on the breeze. The cooler air smells different, fresher, promising, tentative. A couple of hummingbirds hover at the feeder that I’ve let run dry in the past day or two. I should get up off the swing and make up some nectar to fill it. Then the tiny chirps would sound less insistent. Two house wrens, make that three,  jump from bush to bird bath, taking turns dipping into the water, drinking, checking, drinking, checking.

The bush they flit about in needs a good trimming. It’s overgrown and leaning to the east. Every time I’ve thought of getting out the trimmers for a little shaping the bush is in full flower, purple over the entire outer surface. The unkempt look of the bushes matches the wildflowers which are getting taller in sporadic and uneven places. They look more like weeds than ever. I’m not sure where I’ve put the “Wildflowers Under Construction” signs. I should locate and set those out so the HOA knows not to fine me for weeds.

Leaves skitter down the road from time to time as the wind picks up occasionally. Drifts of orange curls settle in crevices and under bushes and between stepping-stones. Then here and there a rain of tiny gray-green leaflets fall from the boughs that oversee almost the entire front yard. I ought to get the blower/vac out tomorrow morning and clean things up a bit, before the garbage truck arrives. But I probably won’t. Let the rest of the leaves from the trees on our street finish their deleafing, then I’ll “clean up” what ought to be left out for crunching footsteps and mulching gardens.

Still with a lengthening to-do list growing in my head as I swing I find a sense of okay-ness out here.

Maybe it’s the family groups that walk or bike the perimeter of the park.  Maybe it’s the sound of children playing on the swings across the street. Could be the chips and cheeps of unseen birds or the blue softness of the sky. It could be the ease of a Sunday afternoon spread out languidly before me. Nothing but a diet Coke to work on.

Choices abound. I recognize how amazingly lucky I am to have the option of being comfortably inside or outside in December. That I live in a place with room for a porch swing feels almost decadent. That growing things surround my home and provide homes for birds and rabbits and an occasional stray cat helps me feel more of life in my days. Healthy and able to walk or dance or bake or spend time with MSH or my children seems like something I shouldn’t ignore or presume.

Yes, pending loss cracks open the shell of the universe, hearts border on breaking.

And yet, somehow goodness and beauty soothe and succor. Something about the outside world gentles the  pounding in my heart and hushes the worry circling my head.

Categories: Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sunday Quotables

These may just be irritating to some people…which makes me laugh. But they might be a nice thing for others. I figured, if most of these quotes come from smart-ish philosophers, brilliant authors, or catchy poets they’d carry a little more weight and not come off so preachy or Pollyanna-ish.

Take ’em or leave ’em. It’s my Sunday contribution. Enjoy.

“Everyone wants happiness, nobody wants pain. But you can’t have a rainbow, without a little rain.” – Author Unknown

(Honestly wouldn’t this look cute on a meme with a happy little rainbow? or maybe a double rainbow?)

Then there’s this great idea from Robert Frost, of “two roads diverged in a yellow wood” fame. I figure he must know a little something about happiness. And Sunflowers make me happy, so voilà.


And who could argue with Immanuel Kant.

“Rules for Happiness:

something to do,

someone to love,

something to hope for.”

–Immanuel Kant (this link takes you to a slightly PG rated 3 minute philosophy buzz about Kant – highly entertaining, but maybe discounts his believability as the author of this particular quote.)

And then there’s this lovely thought by Jane Austen that captures how I’ve felt lately…


Categories: Happiness, Humor, Joy | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

Two Verses On the Sounds and Sights of Sunday

Early Sunday mornings around here are drenched in silence.  It’s a decadent feeling.  You might even call it serene. There is the occasional sound of a car in the distance, the odd background hum of an air conditioner, but for the most part the birds have the Sunday morning playlist covered.


Hummingbirds zzzzzz through the air, darting and dancing among the various blossoms and edible insects.  They have a short chipping call that I find endearing.

The coo of mourning doves lends an undertone of reverence to the mostly silent morning.  Towhees get their name from the sound they make and I can count on a pair of them, at least, to add their notes to the quiet Sunday melody.  There is the sweet peep peep of house finches and the cheery chirrup of sparrows.  Not surprisingly, the Grackles seem to sleep in on Sunday mornings; which is fine with me, as their brackish caw adds little to the peaceful atmosphere.  The mockingbird provides the variation in this quiet Sunday song, as its call will vary with its latest exploits.

Sure, the birds are singing every morning, not just on Sundays, but they are the predominate sound on Sundays.  Today, the birds’ soft symphony is not a thing one has to search for amid the cacophony of traffic, dogs, horns, sirens, alarms, bells, construction, freeways, airplanes and people.  Today, I get to enjoy the clear tones of nature, the morning breeze across my skin, the refreshing silence of a Sunday.

A Different Kind of Music

What a contrast this is to what will be later this afternoon.  The park across the street will be alive with Frisbees, walking barking dogs, squeaking swings, thrown balls and children in their element.  There might be a picnic in the ramada with an extended family or group of friends.  The benches will fill with relaxed bodies, blankets spread out on the lawn. Babies will tentatively touch the grass and pull that sour face.

Girl Belly Button Upside Down Monkey Bars Weal...

photo by: stevendepolo

The sprinklers will surprise someone when they come on without warning and then a new game will occupy water-fascinated children.  Tummies will get a taste of sunshine as a few people hang upside from the monkey bars.  A tussle or two will result in tears.  Bicycles will whiz past, scooters will clack, clack, clack across the sidewalk bumps, a longboarder will slouch past, beatnik like, relaxed and too cool for words.

Shoes will fill up with sand.  Knees will get scraped.  Faces will get dirty.  Hands sticky.  Souls saturated with the perfection of a Sunday afternoon.

Sundays were made for silence and sanctuary.  They are ideal days for naps, friends and family, and good food.  Sundays are perfect for contemplating the miraculous and the ordinary.  The sacredness of Sundays manifests in so many ways.  There’s no other day like a Sunday.  It’s like a mini-holiday every week..  I guess that’s what it is, or can be, if we choose to make it so.  It is a Holy Day, something simply divine.

Categories: Joy, Music, Outdoors, Relationships | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

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