Watching an osprey feed over the bay the past couple of mornings.
Picking up what looked like a dead box turtle on a walk and finding out he is still alive and now is recuperating in our laundry room.
Our shy friend models his scars on the dog's carpet square. My other carpets don't look quite that furry.Listening to my kids profess their love for their teachers. Yesterday afternoon, my kindergartener called me by his teacher's name and then said "That's okay, I call her mom. That's because I love you both the same." (I took this as a compliment.) Then my second grader and my 3 yr old (who only sees her at drop off and pick up) both piped in that they loved her, too, along with the 2nd grade teacher, the computer teacher, and the art teacher. If I'm not going to homeschool, at least my kids' teachers are loving, if they are so loved in return.
Watching a mother fix her daughter's smudged mascara. At the library. At pre-school story time. This girl couldn't have been more than three and was probably less. Wish I had a photo. At least I had a smile. Southern Belle in the making.
Catching the Gestalt Gardener on Mississippi Public Broadcasting. I find myself mesmerized listening to this guy with a truly Southern name, Felder Rushing, talk about gardening in the South. And he has some great photos of bottle trees and garden hearts on his web page, where you can see photos of him (also at MPB), but he looks nothing like his voice.
Photo by Felder of a bottle tree at the Shed, a bbq place not to far from us, and one of his photos of heart shapes found in gardens.
Waking up to the peaceful sleeping face of a petite little girl who has creeped into my bed sometime in the middle of the night. She and her siblings seem to know when there is extra room. And warmth.
Small things to add to that gratitude list.
