Ode to the Ordinary

This week was an ordinary week at my address.  No Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes (or even UPS) at the door, no hot air balloons in flight, dinner out, fancy outfits, or guests in town.  Not even a spectacularly warm, out-of-season sunny day, a road trip; no special flavoring in my coffee, just black with a touch of milk.  It was just normal.  But normal is good.  Indeed, "normal" is what the new Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, with their multimillion dollar nuptials, are seeking. 

So it was here, very normal, which means:

The wind blew. 

The sky was blue with clouds, ordinary, but magnificent.

We did morning chores.

On morning walks, Atticus did his usual crazed sprints through the neighbors' fields, searching for sparrows, voles, or whatever might want to play with him.

I did some work, billed some time, and spent plenty an unbilled hour answering questions over the phone about the water moratorium in these parts.

Dogs wrestled in the background while I worked.

Catcher lounged.

We made a few trips into town, to hit the Post Office, or pick up necessities such as water softener at Farm and Home.

Fixed a dripping faucet, knowing that another task will take its place next week on the "to do" list.  That's normal.  Always a "to do" list.  Cross one thing off, add another.

The horses grazed on the sweet sprouting spring grass, a welcome treat after a winter of hay, and Atticus raced the horses to the barn for oats.

We had our evening walks, with dogs sprinting after sparrows in the sunset or fetching sticks.

This is Riley, our house guest for the week.  We love him.

We caught ourselves enjoying a glass of water.  What could be more normal than that.  And, really, what could be much better?

Oh, there were the typical ups and downs and unanticipated events that are part of a normal week.  But it was a normal week, and I am aware of the treasure that it was.  Because normal does not involve battles with cancer, bombs and warfare, tornadoes, abuse, or mile long hikes to get less-than-clean water. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that my normal is boring, but it is not.  Normal rocks.   It's good.  Even miraculous.  And I will continue to remind myself of that.

"Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are.  Let me learn from you, love you, bless you before you depart.  Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.  Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so.  One day, I shall dig my nails into the earth or bury my face in the pillow or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more than all the world, your return."

                                                                             ~Mary Jean Iron