A Lazy Sunday Afternoon

My mud boots sit next to the front door. I pull them on and head outside. I’m mindful of my steps as I walk the yard with my dog. The ground changes with the rising and the setting of the sun. It’s firm at dusk and dawn and a wet and mucky mess during the time in between.

Kids who live a few doors down are playing at the end of the road. Their laughter floats through the woods. They see me sloshing around the yard and wave from the end of the driveway. I wave back so they perch themselves on a giant rock inviting me to join them. They are eager to play with my puppy. They giggle louder as I get closer then tell me all about the fun they’re having with their bikes and scooters. Their exuberance makes me smile.

On my way back to the house, I notice the flower beds. Last year’s mulch is mostly matted with wet dead leaves. I imagine the perennials that will arrive soon. After fourteen years of walking this yard, I know where they all live by heart. I feel a sudden catch of excitement in my throat as if special guests will arrive soon. There will be a lot to do to get ready for their arrival, but that’s for another day. It’s not how I want to spend this lazy Sunday afternoon.

I sit on the front steps and search for a poem about spring from Mary Oliver. And I find this quote: “Come with me into the woods where spring is advancing as it does, no matter what, not being singular or particular, but one of the forever gifts, and certainly visible.” I take a moment to let the gifts I received in the past hour soak in deep. I look around one more time and whisper the last words of her quote, “and certainly visible.”

I settle back inside the house ready to welcome the rest of this lazy Sunday afternoon.  And my mud boot sit next to the front door waiting for the next adventure.

Cherie Shaw, CPE Intern