Delights: March 26 to April 1

March 26: I knew the morning mishaps (a shattered pickle jar, a soiled shoe) were building to something wonderful. Indeed. In a day absolutely shimmering of summer, a dear friend and I traveled coastward. Saluting our good fortune, we savored drinks and rocking chairs in a charming 19th century town. A walk took us past marshes and a distant egret glowing white against the winter-brown reeds. And then, despite a promised hour-long wait for an outdoor table (more cocktails were certainly an option!), we zipped into a perfect parking spot and were escorted to a perfect table (all views and breezes). From our table, we admired the fishing boats returning home from their day — and the seafood disappearing before us.

The view from our lucky table.

March 27: The sky domed deep blue and slid to the horizon in a half-dozen shades.  Contrails tattooed the cloudless sky as we walked along the beach. We’d already passed a cluster of tiny ducks swimming sleekly below the surface of the neighboring bay. And we spied a nest perched atop a sign saying Do Not Stop. We stopped: at a picnic table in the field of a farm brewery. There we enjoyed refreshing beer, a talented two-woman band, and the company of fifty other people just so happy to be spread out together in the warmth and sunshine. 

Sinepuxent Bay, Maryland

March 28: I awakened to the hard beat of rain on the rooftop, more drum than water. Then the wind instruments pushed past the timpani and conga; the treble of a dozen bird songs complemented the rainy percussion in such a pleasing way.

March 29: Pink maple blossoms carpeted my neighbor’s sunny driveway, softening the asphalt into a fuzzy shag perfect for rolling. Or perfect for scooping handfuls into the air like confetti. I did neither. Flying down the highway minutes later, I threw open my sunroof. A shower of blossoms fell on my shoulders and eyelashes. The parade had come to me!

Lovely fungi of some sort, also relishing the rain and sunshine.

March 30: I was working late, well into the gloaming. In front of my window, a doe sauntered by. I ran to the next window to watch her pass again. She was followed by another doe, and then by a fawn, each 12 feet from the one before. I made a noise; the fawn turned to gaze at me and strolled on. The caravan of deer ended at last as another doe hurried by, chewing vigorously. Did she help herself at my Daffodil Blossom Cafe?

Cascading phlox in our neighborhood.

March 31: The producers of a large event coached the speakers just before our mics went live. We were told, Wait to speak until you see the red box around your screen. Tilt your laptop camera a bit farther back. And please silence your phones. The keynote speaker wondered aloud, “What should I do with my rooster?” 

April 1: The beer was cold, and we were colder. The wind whipped our coats and scarves, and my ungloved fingers could barely write. We had no blankets; we had no seat cushions. But we and 4,996 other loud, masked and well-spaced fans had baseball. We joyously salute you, the 2019 World Series Champion Washington Nationals on Opening Day! JUST KIDDING. Opening Day was cancelled because of COVID. I console myself with spicy Thai food and a warm fire. And many baseball games to come, in warmer weather and not on April Fool’s Day.

Readers, if you’d like to browse my past essays, consult the “word cloud” featured at the very bottom of this post. Find a theme or two that interests you and sift through the sands… To receive notifications by email each time I make a post, just scroll all the way down this page (next to the “word cloud”), look to the left and click on the black button that says “Join Me!” 

I enjoyed this spray of yellow flowers carpeting the woodland bank of Four Mile Run, along with a surprising cherry tree far from its Tidal Basin sisters.

5 thoughts on “Delights: March 26 to April 1

  1. Those phlox are so beautiful. I love the way you appreciate those little things around you like the fungi.


    1. Thank you, friend! I already enjoy many beautiful flowers as we approach spring here. (Your summer photos did so much for my winter morale!) But of all the photos, I do love the fungi best!


  2. I love your posts Carol Ann! Your reflection of March 30th is my favorite for this week, and is something I can relate to.


    1. Thank you, Steve! If I had stayed at my office window instead of chasing the first deer, I might have seen the fourth doe in her nibbling. I know they’ll be back for my hosta!


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