Simple pleasures

There's something so cheerful about the sudden influx of summer toys into the yard, their gaudy plastic colors such a contrast against the greening grass. You can follow the progress of our days by the trail of gardening gloves, picnic blankets, rakes, balance beams, and bubble wands in our wake.

You can also follow the progress of our garden cleanup, now that a radio program and a bit of pointed conversation has turned Liza into a Composting Fanatic (thanks, Dee!). A myriad of crunchy-leaved trails snake from the gardens to our newly begun compost pile, and a half-dozen slightly traumatized worms are trying to recover from their overly enthusiastic transport and settle into their spacious new home.

There's a trail inside the house, as well, in the dusty footprints near the back door, the pile of rocks that have been brought inside to be "studied on," and the mountain of unwashed laundry that teeters inside our closet.

She bolts outside each morning as soon as I stumble downstairs - usually she remembers to change out of her pajamas first. She swings and swings and swings, coming inside only when the realization finally hits that it's 40F outside and she's wearing leggings and a t-shirt.

At the end of the day, we both smell of sunshine and Coppertone, dirt and roly-poly bugs, grass stains and band-aids. And that is good.