It was eighty degrees today, and the sun was shining. I let my children run around barefoot and spray each other with the water hose. I went out to the back pasture and called the horses, and when they came running, I ran along with them. The ground shook with the beats of their hooves, and reaching one hand to the side, I was able to let my fingers trail along the body of my Arabian, Larkspur, while she passed me by as if I were standing still.
I did mundane things, too--but they were made wondrous by the warmth of the day. I hung laundry on the line. I chopped wood--not for tonight, but in preparation for colder nights ahead. I put new hay in the nesting boxes in my chicken coop, and filled in a hole my rabbit had dug. I sat in the open air and finished a chapter on my latest novel while watching the sun go down.
I wish I'd taken the time to shoot my bow, or to get some more housework done, but those are things that can be done tomorrow, or the day after. Other days. Colder days.
Today was special.
Today was a breath of summer, come to us in the dead of winter to renew us, body and soul. I lived it as a prayer, and am thankful.