See: Blue-white twinkle lights draped on our fireplace mantle. Colorful living rooms furnishings around me and new artwork on a gallery wall to my left. Clean wood floor. Spiky houseplant adorned with a bright blue parrot feather. A lidded, blue mason jar filled with pens and pencils. Short stack of notebooks, magazines, and books to read.
Hear: Wind pushing angrily into the chimney. Crashing, rumbling thunder. Rain. Groaning doors and windows, like I am in a ship on the ocean not a house on the plains. Guineas alerting us to a raccoon caught in a live trap overnight.
Taste: Perfect coffee. Remnants of breakfast, which was a cheesy sausage omelette. Minty kiss from Handsome still on the front of my lips.
Smell: Coffee. Coconut-vanilla scented wax. Occasionally a waft of rain or the last trace of that wonderful toasted bread fragrance.
Touch: Air conditioning kicking on early today, slicing charitably through the humidity. Lace tablecloth at my wrists. Bare feet on a squeaky, shiny wood floor. Cuffed jeans I have now worn for three days straight.
Think: How do I measure up? Should I rearrange my schedule? Should I stop blogging and just write? Will my little cucumber sprouts survive the floods? I hope the herb bed fills in soon.
Feel: Cautiously optimistic about some important unknowns in life. Grateful. Creative but sleepy. A little wistful to have said goodbye to Mortimer the garden-munching turtle. Homesick for my girls but so thrilled for their health and well being. Excited for the big things coming for each of them. Also still feeling extremely, shamefully romantic.
Beautifully said. I keep saying to myself, “I won’t complain about the rain. I won’t complain about the rain.” It’s been such a long and terrible drought, but I don’t understand why weather in Oklahoma must always come in such extremes. Hugs from up north.~~Dee
See: my beautiful wife when I awake. Hear: her beautiful voice welcome me to the new day. Taste: the delicious breakfast she made me before work. Smell: fresh coffee and rain. Feel: her soft but passionate hug as I leave for the day. Think: I can’t get home fast enough.
Beautiful as always. I can’t explain to you how much these sense inventories sink into my soul and remind me to do inventories of my own.
Also, I giggled in so much recognition at this: “extremely, shamefully romantic.” Just yes, sometimes, yes.