A Collection of Small, Beautiful Things: Day Thirty-One

(Sometimes it’s tough to feel at home in your own city.  Which is why I’ve given myself a challenge:  each day, for forty days, I’m going to find *one* thing I love about this place.  And then I’m going to tell you about it.  If you want to follow my journey, start here.  Today is Day Thirty-One.)

I am taking time to be grateful for the smallest and simplest things today:

The black cat who slinks over my fence, his fur oil-slick,  his movements so liquid he must dream of a past life when he stalked the jungle as a panther, intent on bigger prey than robins and wrens.

I am grateful for the noontime crunch of leaves underfoot as the mailman approaches my stoop.

The slanting yellow light.

The scudding cirrus clouds.

The sounds of raking leaves, lawns last-mown.

The warm gold squares of my own windows, calling me in from the cold.


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