End of the summer reading program means Fun Fair. That means we're busy, kids are running around outside playing games and talking about their favourite books of the year. Inside, parents are discussing their favourite summer reading, and the best places to do it. The community swimming pool received the most votes. Hearing people talk about books always makes me happy. I was raised to be a Reader by Readers who were also raised by Readers. I come from a long line of Readers.
I discovered a new-to-me blog. Natalia Maks has a photography blog where she shows off her amazing photos. DNe came across her blog while researching artists. Every day an incredible image comes to my phone. Those Chinese fire lanterns are beautiful. She uses doorways so well to draw you and keep you at bay.
I am so appreciative of my senses. I've very aware of all of them. For some strange reason, when we were kids we'd play a game about which would be worse, to be deaf or blind? They both suck. Don't kid yourself. I've experienced both, although deafness was of a much shorter duration and not as complete as blindness. It's true that other senses kick in but trust me when I say how wonderful it is to have full use of all of them. Indulge your senses.
Today was a day to do just that. The plink of metal lids bouncing off nails, the whoosh of a ball being propelled by a breath of air, green scent of creeping charlie, slightly sweet fragrance of dying roses, the hard cyclinder encasing Yoda's pin feathers, the give as I break it with my fingernail, the downy feathers of his neck, the red edging on Kiki's green feathers, the indigo that underlies their wings, slide of Ky's soft fur between my fingers, the velvety smoothness of Milo's ear, the sharp tang of the pineapple, the bitter bite of the hot pepper, the soothing bittersweet chocolate(Icelandic of course which leads to laughter).
And imagination, a portal through which all the senses lead us. To the past of my grandparent's yard full of pear trees, over the hills of the recent past laden with Larch trees golden in the early winter sun, the sharp wind stabbing at my face with icy fingers, to the present white noise of the fan pulling evening scents through the window to the future with its hint of rain and dark clouds and moist taste in the air.
Savour your senses.