I stepped out into the rain early this morning and caught that smell--that moist, earthy Appalachian forest smell that I first learned to love while living in Virginia in the late 1980s, and that became familiar to me as breathing when I thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2000. A part of me wanted to pack up my wet tent, find my hiking poles, and lug my heavy backpack onto the trail for another cold, gray day of following the white blazes.
Yes, I miss even those days.
I wasn't very good about writing things down this week, so the ones below are from memory:
148. past adventures, and friends made there
149. unseasonably warm, sunny days in the dead of winter
150. cold, drizzly, bruised-sky days in the dead of winter
151. seeing a child's joy as she goes down a slide for the first time
152. tea parties, the kind with imaginary cups of tea, hosted by a two-year-old
153. computer techs who treat us non-techies like we're human
154. they way my husband drops everything when I propose an impromptu family trip to the playground
155. Bach's three-part invention in G minor
156. the way a Bach keyboard piece reveals more and more depth the more you practice it, and how the result is greater and greater satisfaction with each playing
157. a friend I can confide in
158. when time-away-from-Li'l-Boo flies and it seems like no time before we're together again
159. feeling the strength coming back to my legs after running consistently for several weeks
160. the ready availability of clean water for refilling my 32-ounce bottle multiple times a day
161. a job that offers new challenges periodically, and (usually) isn't the same old thing every day
162. drizzly-cold Monday mornings
163. being able to call the Appalachian Mountains "home"
164. toy trains
165. seeing her recognize that a word isn't just a fun sound to make, but something that has real meaning
166. the way the rain makes the whole world gleam
167. meals shared with family
168. my daughter's love of books
169. the way she hugs her friend Mo, or her cousin Ella, in greeting
170. Neosporin for a stubborn finger-cut
171. a clean bathtub
172. a husband who can cook
To read more bloggers' endless gifts (or to link to a few of your own), just click the "Multitude Monday" link below.