This is Gibson, about to be two. This is a child of joy. There he is, playing his crap guitar and this is the picture that must be saved to go on the front of his first record/CD/Whatever-the-hell they'll be selling music on when he is grown.
This is Owen, also a child of joy, who runs and grabs me around my legs and says in a burst of sweetness, "I love you, Mer!"
These are the boys who are here because of love, some of it that which has graced my life. They are the very visible reality of that love, not just their presence, but their light and their joy and their (dare I say this?) beauty.
This is a first-reaching spray of opening dogwoods along the path of my walk today against a gray sky, with redbud behind it.
This has been a most ordinary day in a most ordinary life and my kitchen smells of the most ordinary things- soup and bread- and the profound goodness in it humbles me to my very soul.