Musings On Things That Warm My Heart...Besides The Contents Of Orange Boxes

Sometimes it is just nice to stop and ponder on all of the things in life that I am grateful for, the things that warm my heart, the things in life that make me smile, the things in life that I am just glad are part of living this life, things I love:

The aroma of a freshly made cup of Earl Grey Tea.

The sweet sensation of its bergamot on my tongue.

Old quilts, especially the one that belonged to my mother.

Good books with good writing that draws me into an experience I would not have had otherwise.

The chill in the air at the sea, when it is moist, and breathing it in tastes sweetly salty.

Early, frosty winter mornings, when I can take a cup of tea and get into the hot tub, watch the sun rise, and raccoons as they steal across the yard on their way home from a night of foraging.

Movies that make me laugh so hard my sides hurt, and tears run down my face.

The sight of fog on the Golden Gate as I enter the city from the north, and I can look up and see the towering spans peeking out above the billows.

A really good cup of chocolat on a cold night with the lights out, and only candles and a soft fire lighting the room.

Watching the squirrels run outside the big front window, shaded in spots,

yet still lit by the sun.

Old film noir, on rainy days where the color of the sky matches the colors on the screen.

The colors of spring as it bursts forth here in the wine country, the new green on the hills, the young leaves on the vines, the daffodils growing along the Valley of The Moon Highway.

Smooth stones washed by the sea, sitting with shells in clear glass bowls.

Spiced cider, when the color of the leaves all around me are russet,

and a chill is nipping at my nose and cheeks.

The feel of cashmere against my skin, soft, making me feel calm and serene.

The night sky in the summer, when it looks as if someone tossed diamonds as high, as high as they could throw.

Sitting at my favorite restaurant on the square, at an unusual hour of the day. The patio doors open, and all the bustle is on view in front of me. While behind me the room is quiet,

and staff prepares again for the rush time.

The first rain, the sweetness it leaves in the air.

The sculptures I have that my father made,

because they were touched by his hands, and love was left behind.

The smell of a new Hermes scarf or shawl.

The feel of the silk when pressing and finishing a scarf.

Old things that if they could talk and tell you where they have been,

would speak of dreams and joys, held and had by others from another time and place.

The silence of snowfall.

Saturday afternoon movies with my friend,

and we are bundled up in comfy clothes,

with cups of chai and popcorn.

Friends those special people who really know who you are,

and forgive who you are not.

Cheese, all types, all forms, and in many things. Like

omelettes with fresh garden herbs, and mushrooms.

Handmade things, that the person put part of their being into the craftmanship.

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