Colorful clothespins. Line-dried sheets. Warm porch planks. Cold Coke. Strings of party lights. Red geraniums. A barrel of blooming lavender. New potatoes and peas. Garden to table. Birdsong mornings. Warm wind. Open windows. Cherry tomatoes. Wildflowers. Wild blackberries right outside your door. Good books. The Good Book. Sunsets. Letter writing. Long walks. Creek music. Children’s voices carrying through the trees. Children, but not my children who are grown. Long stretches of solitude and sunshine. Sweet sleep.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives who thinks most ~ feels the noblest ~ acts the best.

~P.T. Bailey