Today will not be perfect. But within this imperfect day, there will be snippets of perfection. That’s what I’ve come to expect. It’s what I believe and notice. I thought about this as I pulled weeds and came upon this pansy smiling at me, expecting nothing at all, barely even asking for soil.
I thought about this earlier, as I made breakfast. I’d already written for an hour or two. I easily lose track of time until the dogs remind me, or I discover I need food.
John and I enjoyed near perfect breakfasts while in Iceland. I can duplicate that at home. Sort of.
Everything looks super perfect on social media. We post our best pictures, clean homes, good hair days. I’m guilty of it, not because I want to reflect perfection. Rather, I imagine folks would prefer to see flowers blooming than the weeds mushrooming along my drive.
Believe me, I have weeds.
And I look at them plenty. I spend time nearly every day pulling them.
Today, I took a picture of the weeds thriving along my front walkway, nearly choking out the flowers reaching for sunlight. I believe this variety is called smartweed. It should be named thefastestgrowingweedeverweed.
Today will not be perfect, but parts of it will be. The way daylight streams through the dining room window highlighting the clear pane and painted sill and nature of the wood table.
A perfect bite of food. Tomatoes and small cubes of my favorite Parrano cheese, basil I attempt to chiffonade but chop instead. Basil I grew behind the back porch along side clover and dandelion that look quite at home.
Maybe later, I will enjoy a perfect five-minute nap, one that places me back into a creative state so I can wake with that one perfect word in my mind, the one that will make all the difference in my writing.
No, today will not be perfect.
Far from it.
I will still be me. Doing what I do. Making mistakes. Erasing words with the delete key or marking through them with the slash of the pen. I leave dirty dishes in the sink until later and even then, I don’t soak them or scrub them the way I should before loading them in the dishwasher. And no, I’m not picky about how I load the dishwasher. I just put them in anywhere they will fit.
I doubt you’d like to see a picture of it.
Happy Friday, y’all! (It is Friday, isn’t it?) I’m still a bit discombobulated from jet lag and travel, but I hope you notice moments of perfection in your imperfect day.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Enya – Only Time