Penelope and I enjoyed the porch this morning. The sky was summer blue just bursting with every cloud imaginable. The sky looked like a sketch pad of Father Sky’s. He was sketching all the clouds, trying to decided which ones to paint on his sky canvas. I was hoping he would fill the sky with mackerel scale clouds. I just love them. They make me think of ocean waves curled back and crashing against the sky. And at sunset their beauty is astounding. The absorb every hue of the sunset in their scale patterns. Father Sky finally erased all but the fluffy rounded clouds of our childhood drawings.

I ate my bagel and Penelope begged for a bite after eating her bacon treat. She is a bottomless pit. While I was scolding Penelope, a chubby chipmunk came scurrying across the porch and stopped right by the swing in front of the play pen. He looked like a soldier on patrol, his first time confronting the enemy. He had definitely not missed any meals during his tour of duty. He was bold, looking right at us, and his tail looked just like a toilet brush, all bristles and sticking straight out. He was sleek, reddish brown, bright dark eyes, his head and back painted with black and white sergeant stripes. I thought for a minute he was going to attack me and P. He stood his ground like it was his porch and then speedily ran under the play pen and back across the other side of the porch. Penelope was so surprised by his bravery she didn’t even bark.

A soft, gentle wind was composing morning porch music with the tintinnabulations of the wind chime pipes. Every one of the wind chimes was adding just one pipe note solo to the symphony. I can never figure out how these breezes navigate through the wind chimes slow enough to make the paddles strike just one pipe. Maybe it’s divine intervention. This piece of music was the perfect accompaniment to this slow paced morning. I watched the yellow cloudless sulfur butterflies dance to the music as they flitted from bloom to bloom in my old wheelbarrow. The flight of a butterfly is so musical, even without music. The yellow butterflies are just personifications of happiness. They make me smile.

Lots of bird visitors in the yard this morning. The faithful cardinals, the fighting finches, Mr. and Mrs. Downey Woodpecker, a few wrens, the small flock of titmice, and lots chubby hummingbirds. And the squeaking and cooing doves bobbing around under the feeders on their chubby pink legs and feet. The humming birds have little beer bellies. Guess they are storing up for their trip to Mexico and Central America. Don’t know why they dive bomb each other all day long. The feeders have several ports but like the finches they can’t share the feeders.

I saw the most beautiful juvenile male cardinal today. He was just starting to get his adult feathers. His little head was full of bright red feathers, all sticking up like cowlicks. His tail feathers were full of the redness of the mature males but his chest and wings were still feathered in the subdued melted chocolate brown and grays of his childhood. He’ll be a handsome fellow when he’s feathered out.

You know, ordinary days in all their simplicity are glorious. These days have a special music that is overlooked. We plan for all the big occasions in life and we lose the joy in the simple every day things that living life brings. Time slips by and these ordinary days are gone, left by the wayside and we didn’t even realize how important they were. God gives us a new day every day and we choose how to live that day. When tomorrow comes this day will be gone and we shouldn’t regret how the day was spent. The beauty and opportunities we experience in every day life make our lives extraordinary. We can waste the day or we can use the day to do something good. We can accept the challenges that come our way and be grateful for all the little things we take for granted. We need to consciously choose to make the day the best it can be. We can live an ordinary day and see how extraordinary it is.

I love my small town life and I’m grateful for my blessings. I experienced an ordinary day today and it was a happy fulfilling day. And the sunset, it was extraordinary!

“The highest art is the art of living an ordinary life in an extraordinary manner,” — Tibetan Proverb