I have to admit to being a creature of simple pleasures, and for that I thank God, my genes, and my ability to actually ‘see’ the world around me.
It amazes me when I am made aware of just how much some people need (think they need!) to be happy. Bigger houses. Bigger cars. Fancy holidays. Bigger egos. I say that it amazes me…when actually it makes me smile and shake my head. Wake up! Yeah, wake up. Go smell the coffee or the roses, or… something.
I’m not saying that big houses, cars, fancy holidays are not acceptable, of course they are, (egos are a no-no though) but what about the simple things? What about everything that is around us? The free things.
I can’t actually walk to the top of my garden without stopping a dozen times to wonder and gaze at something. The chucks, sitting together in their nest box, clucking low, conspiring, planning their course of demolition, for when they are let out. The two, dolphin size orfe, crazily circling the pond like bikers on the Wall of Death, pushing and jostling each other in play. At this point I am only half way up the garden.
The next half delays me further, and for longer. Here, there is new growth to stand and stare and wonder at. The apple blossom, perfect, pink and sweet-smelling. The cherry blossom, already falling like confetti at a wedding. The blackcurrant and gooseberry bushes vibrantly green. Unless you are a gardener, or an artist, I don’t think you ever fully realise, or appreciate, just how many shades of green there are in an April/May garden, when growth is wild, rampant and raging.
And then, the greenhouse. I open the door and I can imagine a hundred little voices shouting, ‘Me, me, I’m here, I’m new. Look at me, I’ve grown two more leaves overnight! I’m thirsty! I’ve been half eaten by a slug! Get the pellets. Kill it! Kill it!’
OK, so I’m bonkers. I can live with that, and in fact I do.
The other day we (Richard and moi) stood chatting to a couple of acquaintances and afterwards Richard said, ‘Did you see her face? All that …whatever it was! Was that really necessary at this time of the morning?’
‘I mean, your friend Maud – ’ (name changed, obviously) ‘ – is exactly the same. Why do they wear all that makeup? It must take them hours to go to all that effort.’
By now my head was slightly tilted and a frown had crossed my brow.
‘Are you saying that I don’t make any effort?’
He shuffled a bit.
‘No…er…no, I’m not saying that. You always look nice…but you don’t take hours dolling yourself up.’
I took a deep breath.
‘So I look like I’ve made little effort?’
‘No. You always look nice.’
I was fast going off that bloody word. Nice?
‘Anyway, he continued, ‘that was one of the things that I liked about you when we met. You didn’t take hours to get ready. You’re… nice.’
Cheeky piece of shit! I’ll have you know that it takes me ten minutes every morning to acquire my ‘day look.’ And that look is, in fact, the same as my ‘night look,’ my ‘going to a posh do look,’ and every other look in between. Blimey! If he knew the amount of housekeeping dosh that I spend on Olay and mascara and the wrong colour lip gloss, he would realise just how much effort I do make.
Not sure why I included that in my blog about simple pleasures? Perhaps because I am one? Or not? Or just plain simple and pleasure doesn’t come into it?
I must just tell you about something that occurred in Jollyes yesterday. Jollyes is a pet food emporium. I toddled in to get the chucks some layers pellets and passed this rather cool person holding a …fox cub. Yes! A flipping fox cub. I hate to use the word cute, because cute belongs to teddy bears and dolls and all things pink, but this little guy was cute…I am talking about the fox cub here, not the cool person! I have fed foxes at the bottom of my garden, but I have never seen a tiny fox cub, up close and personal. Obviously I had to engage the cool person with my nonsensical chatter. Apparently, the cub’s mother had been shot by the farmer and this sweet, cool person, had raised the cub. He’d had it for two weeks. I had to take a photo. The little guy wasn’t very photogenic, but then hey, he was a fox.
It truly made my day. And here’s the thing…it didn’t cost a penny to acquire that memory.
So…time for me to toddle off, back up the garden, collect the chucks’ eggs, refresh the fat balls, and wing a few snails over the hedge and into the neighbour’s wilderness garden.
Take care my lovelies x
PS Just a word of thanks to all new followers of this blog… and to those of you who take the time to ‘like’ and comment. Much appreciated xxx