Skip to main content

Saturday morning musing

I experienced one of those rare times that I am alone in the car today. It was so quiet and therefore my mind could focus on the beauty surrounding me as I neared our village. The distant mountains were veiled by a thin, gray, misty fog. Their deep, dark green was still visible and gave them a mystical appearance. Our village, with the clay colored rooftops breaking up the sea of green of the fields and mountains, felt like home. It was a good feeling. Just as I entered our village, the rain began again. The main street is brick and I could see the raindrops splashing upon the street, while several people tried to seek shelter under the awning of the bakery.




 I love the quaintness of the village. When I began my morning trip, there was a break in the rain and one old gentleman in particular caught my eye. He was riding his black bicycle down the center of the street, smiling, clearly enjoying the moment, not a care in the world. All the little shops had their doors wide open, which feels like an invitation to come in and see what there is to see.



 In the middle of the leaving and returning home, I had the pleasure of spending the in-between hours with a friend over coffee and croissants, and then a visit to a yarn store. I feel rejuvenated, refreshed, and ready to get back to the routine of life.



Labels:

Comments

  1. BarbaraJuly 13, 2014 at 8:14 AM

    Blogger must have eaten my comment yesterday. I was sighing (or was it moaning?) at the thought of coffee and croissants in your sweet hillside village. Wish I was there!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. JennyJuly 13, 2014 at 9:12 AM

      That would be lovely! If you and Faith want to study Germany, you have a place to stay!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Door Table

Once there was a store in Georgia. It is no more, but how I wish it was. I likened going in there to treasure hunting. One never knew what was going to be in there, and you had to dig through and wade through all the "other people's treasures" to find your own. I once found a set of blue and white teacups and saucers from England. I found lace handkerchiefs, a rocking chair, and an end table. But by far the best find was my kitchen table. I had stopped by one day while the kids were taking horseback lessons and the then little ones were asleep. The store was not open, but I went up to the window to see if anything new was there. And it was there. The table. And six chairs too! We were in need of a bigger table with Jack on the way. My mom had offered to give us her old one, which I was going to accept if I didn't find something I liked better. I didn't want anyone else to even see the table because I knew it was supposed to be ours, but one can never tell abo
9 comments
Read more

Fog and faith

 I stepped out into the coolness of the November morning to start the car and defog the windows, preparing to take Jack to school. Daylight had yet to appear. As we drove the many miles, the sky lightened, and we could see the mist hanging out just above the grass. We usually listen to a story together on our drive, adding commentary, exchanging a knowing glance or a shocked expression as the twists and turns unfold. I relish this time with Jack. I know that all too soon he will be preparing to leave the nest, like his sisters before him.  On the drive back, I pull my rosary from my purse and pray. By this time, the sun is just about to appear, making the sky a beautiful orange-pink on the horizon. I am pondering much as I pray, for the path I am on is once again rocky and uncertain. Such is life, whether we have faith or not. Faith makes it bearable. For the most part, the road home is a straight shot and I can see the ribbon of road laid out before me, narrowing in the distance. The
3 comments
Read more

A Tale of a Tail (or the excitement of the day)

 First of all, I doubt anyone still checks this little old neglected blog, so I am probably talking to myself right now. But if by chance, there is still someone out there, I will tell the tale of the tail I came to tell. As little boys are apt to do, Peter left his rainboots outside on the front porch several days ago. As they do not add to the decor on the porch, I decided to bring them inside this morning and I put them by the back door, where they belong. There they sat, until the mail truck came by and tucked our mail into the box. I may or may not have mentioned that our property is surrounded by a moat during the rainy days. There is no going to collect the mail without rain boots. Seeing how Peter was supposed to be doing his math lesson, of course he eagerly volunteered to go get the mail. He hopped up from the table and went to put on his boots. The scream that came from him made me leave my seat! I thought he had hurt himself. He claimed there was a roach in his boot. I pick
1 comment
Read more