Penelope and I walked in a light misty rain this morning. For some reason while I was walking Penelope a quote from Maya Angelo popped up in my mind. “This is a wonderful day. I haven’t seen this one before.” Never really pondered on it but everyday is different than the one before and the one coming after. No two ever sketched or colored the same. That’s the beauty of God’s creation. My focus every morning is to look at the bird feeders and then glance up at the sky. I’m always checking for new birds and new color words to describe the clouds and the sky and the sunsets.

The magnolias across the street are still blooming. So pretty, the snow white blooms nestled among the dark green leaves. I used to climb to the top of the trees when I was a child. The bottom limbs have been pruned back on the magnolias so you can’t climb them easily anymore. The magnolia further back in the yard used to have a long limb that touched the ground. You could just walk up the tree to begin your climbing. I used to scare my mother to death climbing all the way up to the top. She’d be on the porch and I’d call her from the highest point. My children climbed these trees, too. I’m guessing they are at least 150 years old. They were old when I climbed them years ago as a child. I just wonder if children even climb trees anymore. “Climbing trees is still one of my favorite things to do. A tree and a good book and I’m happy.” Emayatzy E. Corinealdi. As a child I read all the time perched in the dogwood tree in our yard. I remember reading Gone with the Wind in that tree and heading to the porch swing to continue reading as the day darkened, later reading in bed under a sheet tent with a flashlight to finish the book.

The sun came out mid-afternoon steaming up the landscape. Sitting in the porch swing I can feel its warmth on my legs. A thin layer of soft-hued gray clouds are moving quickly across the horizon. I can see bits of the azure blue sky in the cloud breaks. Father Sky just gathered the clouds, sketched them full of rain and watered my neighborhood with a heavy shower. I love sitting on the porch when it rains. As the rain ended twilight washed over the landscape and the sun burst through the oaks and magnolias like a naked white lightbulb piercing the dark, %swinging from a black ceiling cord in an old wooden farm house.

As I came in the house, Mother Nature had begun her watercolor magic on the horizon in shades of golden honey. Anthony Douglas Williams wrote, “Moments of solitude with Mother Nature is sunshine to a soul.” I feel that way as I end my day watching the sun set. “Nature is painting for us, day after day, pictures of infinite beauty,” John Ruskin. The earth is so beautiful when we take time to truly look at our world. I don’t know how I got addicted to watching the sunset each day. I just love anticipating the color scheme of Mother Nature’s watercolors and she never disappoints. She paints a masterpiece for God’s eyes only and shares her paintings with us when the clouds don’t cover her canvas.

Our lives can be so hectic in the modern world and a glimpse of a wondrous sunset can give pause to our lives as we watch the sky changing colors. “Sunsets, like childhood, are viewed with wonder not just because they are beautiful, but because they are fleeting,” Richard Paul Evans. The simple beauty of the sunset encourages us to be grateful for the simple wonders of nature and the mysteries of life. You cannot watch the sunset and not feel the presence of God in the heavens. “Once you have tasted the sky, you will forever look up,” Leonardo da Vinci.

My grandchildren are out of school for the summer. Even at 70 years old I can still remember how exciting it was to get out of school for the summer. The prospect of going barefoot, going swimming, the happy freedom of riding bicycles, roller skating all around town, drinking cherry cokes and lemon sours from the drug store. When my baby brother and I were in elementary school we’d always look forward to the last day of school and hurry home to our sandpile. Daddy would always fill the sandpile with a fresh load of white sand on the last day of school and Mama would buy us each a bag of little green plastic soldiers. We’d take our shoes off and head for the sandpile and stage a war with the soldiers. When the war took a cease fire, we’d try to dig to China. I just wonder if my grandchildren have ever tried to dig to China. We’d dig in the sandbox till we hit the brown dirt of the yard and we’d think we were almost there.

I researched this digging and found out baby brother and I would miss China and come out somewhere in the middle of the Indian Ocean. We’d have to visit Argentina or Chile to dig to China. Japanese kids dig in their sandboxes for Brazil! Wonder where China children dig to, probably the United States. Gonna ask my grandchildren if they’ve ever tried to dig to China and see what they say. “We don’t stop playing because we grow old…we grow old because we stop playing,” George Bernard Shaw. Gonna get me sandbox and try digging to China with my dearest friend!

“At the end of the day what really matters is that your loved ones are well, you’ve done your best and that you’re thankful for all you have,” Gloria Shalom.