Every-day Pleasures

What Helen calls the “every-day snow” is back here in the Upper Peninsula, here in the land of winter, those light and wandering flakes that don’t accumulate, but just wander on down. Along with the everyday snow of the land of winter come the everyday pleasures of the land of winter.

Such as the smell of coffee in the morning. You can get the smell of coffee at any time of year, of course, but in the winter, the house is closed up, tight, and the smells in the house are stronger.

So we receive anew the everyday pleasures of smell and taste—pumpkin pie, turkey, chili.

And the everyday pleasure of touch—the wrinkled cheek of someone with whom you’ve spent a long, long time, and the smooth cheek of a little person who has a long, long time yet to get wrinkled.

The everyday pleasure of sight, things we could not see in summer, but now in winter the branches are bare, and we can see right through to the playground, to the neighbor’s outdoor lights, the approach of the paper boy through the side yard.

The everyday pleasure of hearing, the closed windows barring the outside sounds, letting us hear the creaking of the steps, the tinkling of dishes in the kitchen, the distant melody of memory.

May the every-day pleasures of the winter be with you every day,
JRMcF

PS: As I get ready to post this, the every-day snow is turning into accumulating snow…and accumulating pleasures.