A Perfect Day

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Last night’s pounding rain has scrubbed the haze from the sky and the morning sun floods through my windows. Today I have no plans, no chores, no work.

I put some jazz on my stereo, and head to my studio. The jeweled watercolors are soft and ready in my stained palette and I happily dip my brush. The colors swirl and flow into patterns that delight me and soon the paper is soaked full of pigment and water. Nothing more can be done until this bit dries, I think.

As I move about the house with quick purpose, my dog, Setta, begins to perk up. Something’s happening! As I tie my shoes and reach for her leash, her joy drives her to pant and shimmy in excitement. We pass from the cool peace of the house into a bright, noisy world. Cars roar past, bicyclists furiously pedal against the summer wind and the trees are dancing. We head to the jogging path, Setta sniffing madly.

Everyone is out today, or so it seems. Walkers and runners converge on the path, and we dodge a snapping poodle only to become tangled in someone else’s leash. Setta and a wolfhound decide they’re buddies, posturing and jumping. I turn to extricate myself and smack into the man gripping the other leash. Amid laughter and commands to our errant dogs we unwind, and move on. “Huh,” I think. “He was cute.” I turn to look back, but he’s gone.

Back at home, the painting is shifting into something very satisfying and I am deep into jazz and color when the phone rings. I ignore it.

Later, satisfied that there is nothing more to add to my watercolor, I clean up and check my voicemail. “What’re you doing for dinner?” a friend asks. I return her call, and we meet downtown as the sun is slipping from its fierce perch and mellowing into a glorious evening. We take a sidewalk table at the cafe and sip a bit of wine, catching up on our news as we wait for our food.

Toward the end of dinner, a mutual friend greets us as she passes. “Hey, my friends out the the farm are having a house concert tonight. Well, really, a barn concert, but anyway, you wanna come?”

“Who’s playing?”

“The Wood Brothers.”

“What?! Hell yeah, we’re comin!”

By the time our car is winding out to the farm, the sun is setting and the heat of the day is easing. We arrive to a scene of cars and cows, the barnyard alight with lanterns and small lights. A stage is set up under the huge oak tree, and the band is tuning. Milling music lovers stretch and chatter, some sipping beers from a keg flowing near the back. Satisfied with the tones, the Wood Brothers break out a rollicking opening song and the crowd comes alive.

We jump, twist and shake. We laugh, shout and sing. The music fills the night and our hearts. And in a break in the show, I turn to my left and see the wolfhound man, grinning, walking right to me.

What a lovely day.

My response to the Daily Post: Sparkling or Still.

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