Today


Summer has been a relatively absent season this year, at least when it comes to temperatures. Except for less than a single handful of days when the temperature climbed up into the 90s and kept going, the temperatures have been more spring-like. The farmers’ market is however bursting with nature’s bounty, with incredibly sweet nectarines, juice-drip-down-your-chins-down-your-elbows peaches, blueberries and strawberries, soothe, cooling watermelon, cantaloupe and melons.


We went to Picchetti Open Preserve today with another family. The company:perfect, the day:gorgeous. We listened to some live music, ate good food, drank some good wine and did a hike cum meadow exploration. Maya fell into a happy sleep in the car in the early evening hours on our way back.


All this is just an excuse for me to share this exquisite poem by Billy Collins. I read this a few months back as I was perusing his Nine Horses book of poems and have been waiting to spend a day that matched the mood of the poem.

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.              – Today, Billy Collins

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