Loves

I've found myself noticing things I love, or hate, a lot lately. And every time something comes to mind I promise myself that I'm going to start a list of these things to see what the shape of my small passions might be. So I'm going to put a few down right now because I've thought to do it.

Hearing frogs peeping in the ditches by the side of country roads on spring/summer nights.
Not knowing the names of birds.
Children sitting in my lap of their own volition.
Searching for turtles in the woods, and knowing that I won't find one (but that it is probably only three feet away from me). I love and hate this.
Fancy French meals with lots of wine.
Shirley Temples.

It's funny, when I was in Seattle T. or C. said something about my liking the outdoors. I never really think of myself as outdoorsy. You're not going to see me really roughing it when it comes to camping. I'm not a great fan of hiking ... actually, I think I could be a fan of hiking, I just get terrified that I won't last and that I'll be five miles into a hike and unable to make the return trip/disappoint those I am with by my pace. I no longer remember what poison ivy looks like. And yet so many of the things I love are experiences, objects or animals one should only find outside the comforts of their home. If I had it my way, I would sit outside and do my office work every day. And each day, I would be thankful for the birds flying overhead and red-tailed skinks rustling in the undergrowth (I swear I will get photographic proof of this at some point).

A porch. A stream. Some trees. Some plants. That's what I want. Blah. Blah. Blah.