Perfection is transitory and fleeting

[smeddley]

Today, lunchtime found me sitting out in the courtyard, crocheting and enjoying a beautiful day. The sun was shining and warm, but a cool breeze and the shade from a nearby tree kept it from being overly hot. Birds were chirping. The sound of the water cascading down the fountain was soothing. Everything was coalescing into utter perfection. I could have stayed there forever... or, at least, until the end of the work-day. Or until it began to rain (they are predicting more showers). Or until I finished the potholder and got bored. But for that moment it was wonderful.

Slowly, though, the imperfections began to creep in. The concrete bench was actually quite chilly. And hard. My hindquarters began to hurt. The odd angle of my back began to take its toll on my hip, which ached. Bugs were everywhere; a spider crawled out on my hand (I gently blew him away, he was pretty tiny). The sun was actually kind of hot where it peaked through the leaves and beat down on my head. And I just know those birds were eyeing me as target practice.

Comments

[aeamek.livejournal.com]

That scene would be a whole lot cooler if I didn't picture you knitting doughnuts.