May 10, 2019 — Do memories of yesterday count as delights for today? I think so. A lovely memory lingers this morning from Kevin’s delightful surprise last night. We started my birthday celebration at our local family-friendly brewery, Audacious Aleworks, with a beautiful chocolate heart-shaped ice cream cake Kevin had purchased for me. His idea: share slices with the customers. We did. Smiles, best wishes and sweetness ensued. I’m still warmed by it all this morning.
May 11, 2019 — A trip to the nursery is always a delight, but no more so than when I’m joined by my family. I remember my Mom savoring the sunshine in a chair immersed in bustle and flowers. Or my boys, pointing to the koi and testing the fountains. Or yesterday, with Jeremiah and Kasia: Jeremiah headed straight to the water features while Kasia and I gathered armloads of annuals in orange, yellow, coral and red. We found gardening gloves that fit perfectly over Kasia’s beautiful sparkly periwinkle fingernails. And we found delight working side by side under softly clouded skies.
May 12, 2019 — A little boy reached into the musical instruments box at church this morning and pulled out a triangle and a wooden dowel to strike it. The hymn — and congregation — invited joyful noise, but the triangle wouldn’t sing. I crept over to help find the triangle’s rod. No luck. I handed him a wristlet of jingle bells instead. He played avidly, and the congregation celebrated the Fourth Sunday of Easter with a twinkling reminder of how it all began.
May 13, 2919 — As I walk to the Metro during these spring mornings, I’m delighted to see baby trees sprouting in plastic casings. Last fall, Arlington County planted scores of trees on either side of the stream that hugs my path. As I peer through the white plastic tree-guards, I see that about half of the new prospects survived the winter and are flourishing. Sprouting leaves and inches, they push to join the trees towering over them. Some day. But in the meantime, their youthful energy makes me smile.
May 14, 2019 — I rose early, with the birds and glimmering daylight, and headed into work. We’ve had a lot of rain recently — indeed, a record 70 inches over the past 365 days. This morning, though, as I entered my north-facing office, the sun bounced off neighboring buildings at just the right angles to spotlight bits of wall, ledge and shelf. The plants shimmered, tchotchke stood straighter, and even my Nationals bobbleheads looked dignified. I could pivot my workspace to face this surprising beauty. But I think I’d rather look over my shoulder every few minutes for nourishing sips of loveliness.