Shadows and Light with Fluffy Clover

Thank goodness it's Friday. For some reason that I haven't quite put my finger on yet, this morning seems different. After watching Craig Ferguson this morning, I went about the business of getting ready for work, filling my thermos, trying to make my hair do something. As I started out the door, I noticed that I was ten minutes ahead of schedule. That never happens. I made my way down the steps to the yard and took a moment to notice the way that the sunlight seemed to push the dark clouds that were just over the mountain peak back into the horizon, the mixing of bright light and the rich dark hues casting an odd shadow down on the holler. I approached the hippy van, trying not to think about what could be hiding in the dewy grass which was badly in need of mowing, looking out over the yard. It was covered in tiny white clover flowers which seemed to glow in the strange light. The whole lawn looked fluffy and inviting, for a fleeting moment a part of me wanted to dive in and roll around in the grass, like we did when were younger and less inhibited.

I made my way towards the camp ground store, there wasn't much at the house I could fix for breakfast and I had time, so I decided to splurge and get a biscuit. The parking lot was packed, but I wasn't worried, I had plenty of time to spare. The campground is situated on the bank of the river, next to a large bridge that leads out of town. After I bought my breakfast, I stood in the parking lot among the pickup trucks full of farmers and factory workers starting their day, all in a rush. I noticed the slight nip in the air, unusual for this time of year. I watched the misty fog dance along the surface of the water. Something is different today.

Normally, the moment I enter work in the mornings, the chemical odors attack my senses, causing my allergies to go into full swing before I even get to my desk. This morning though, the only way I can think of to describe it is, it smelled like kindergarten. Walking down the hall from the front office down to the cubicle forest, my mind was taken back to preschool. I could remember the floor of large black and white tiles, the perfectly coiffed principal, the cots we took naps on, how the worn wood of the auditorium stage felt on the backs of my chubby little legs as I sat there with my feet dangling.

Even my coffee smells different this morning. Remember what it was like, before you ever tasted coffee, how good it smelled, how you couldn't wait until you'd be allowed to taste it? Remember how it never seemed to smell quite as good again, once you had? That's how good it is this morning.

Maybe I'm just going to have a good day for a change. It's a long time coming. I hope your coffee tastes richer, your sky seems bluer and the light is chasing the clouds away from your lawn filled with fluffy clover.

Oh and Happy Birthday (a day late) to Craig Ferguson. I hope you keep making me smile for many years to come :)