This is my husband and one of my Airedales, Alice.
There is always one perfect day in Autumn. It is that day when absolute equilibrium is reached, when the air is neither warm nor cold, when movement seems superfluous and flamboyant.
Today was that day.
I moved a chair into the backyard under a tree that I never sit under. I wanted to see my space from a new perspective so I would remember every part of why this day was THE day. The chooks gently clucked to the side of me, a dog sat at my feet, my husband washed the car nearby, I could hear the sounds of a neighbourhood. Everything looked normal, nothing was out of place, all was how it should be.
The mere ordinariness of the day added to its perfection. I think that we’ve been conned into thinking that perfect days call for celebration, or ritual, or at least a new pair of shoes. But in this simple life we live, I reckon perfect days can just be silently added to the memory bank along with all the other wonderful things we enjoy and are grateful for.