Spring took it’s sweet and flowery time arriving on our fingerling peninsula here in Maine, and I don’t want to say that it made me cranky or anything but I have been absolutely rejoicing as the weather this Memorial Day weekend has been pretty dang spectacular.
So much so that late yesterday afternoon I told JoHn to break out the champagne because it was time for the first glass of the season (Okay, fine. I can always come up with a good rationalization for champagne. First glass of the season’ sounded acceptable to me).
I stepped out onto the recently spit-shined screen porch and sat back in my chair, gazing out across the gardens to the water, where freshly launched boats have started to slide back and forth in that familiar, easy, blood-pressure-lowering rhythm.
As I was taking the pic above, JoHn joined me on the porch and made a chuckle sound. Which was irritating because I was all about setting up my aperture and other technical stuff and trying to focus and now he was laughing at me.
“You taking pics of the ducks?”
I looked at him like he was a total weirdo.
He noticed, and attempted to self-correct.
“I mean chickens.“
I seriously wanted to throw my napkin at him, followed by the glass of champagne (but only once I took a good pic of it).
I was looking at him like, “WHAT are you talking about?!” and he pointed.
Here is what I was taking a pic of (same as the one above):
Here is what JoHn saw:
I cannot tell you how much I love the feeling that washes over me as irritation gives way to self-depreciating laughter. It’s pretty great.
I’m also a big fan of looking at this crazy, lovely, confounding, heartbreaking, wondrous life from different perspectives, so my cup – well, glass – was runneth overing.
JoHn sat down across from me and I sipped my champagne and he sipped his wine… and we listened to the quiet clucking (you’d be surprised how much it sounds like quacking)… and watched the boats glide by… and silently gave thanks at the end of a beautiful late spring day…
In midcoast Maine.
Thanks for readin’.
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