Have you ever had one of those days when everything just seems to be perfect? One of those days where in spite of the day-to-day stresses of bills, mosquito bites and political overload, the universe seems to be perfectly aligned?
Welp. I have.
They don’t come around all that often, but yesterday was one of them. I woke up to the realization that my colonoscopy was over, I could eat whatever I wanted, and most of my body was pain free. Huzzah!
The day was warm, sunny, gorgeous.
Spring in Massachusetts, brief as it is, reminds us all that Mother Nature must surely love us. The lilacs were passing, but the peonies were just about to open. The irises were in full and glorious bloom, and the grass hadn’t yet turned brown.
My yard, if I do say so myself, was fabulous! “Holy rhododendron”, I thought as I looked out my front window, “I am a gardening goddess!”
There were butterflies on every blossom. Darling little chipmunks were racing around the bushes. Robins and Phoebes were singing.
It was an amazingly natural day. I loved my dear Mother Nature.
Last evening, my husband and I did something we rarely do anymore. We went out to hear good music. We drove about an hour west to meet up with our kids and some of their friends. It was a blast.
Wahoo! Great finale to a great day, right?
Then, after a truly fun and completely wonderful night of great music from Upstate Rubdown, we headed home.
We made the hour long ride home with glorious silver stars shining overhead. We were in a mood of pure elation.
As we made our winding way through the small roads of Central Massachusetts, we found ourselves commenting on how lucky we are to live where we do.
At one point, the headlights of our little car caught the glowing eyes of a possum, and we slowed to watch it amble into the woods. “Eat those ticks!”, we cried, laughing.
We counted ourselves lucky to have seen the funny little guy.
But there were more delights in store for us before we made it home to our beds.
We were absolutely thrilled to see a beautiful raccoon waddling across one lawn in a nearby town. Next we noted a delicate young doe standing in the tall grass along the road, her fur illuminated by the gentle starlight.
Mother Nature, you give such beautiful gifts! Angels were singing. Angels, I tell you.
And then, just as we turned into our very own rural neighborhood, we found a little family of foxes playing on the grass. How beautiful! Those little golden red faces! The Mamma fox, rushing her babies out of harm’s way!
Oh, Mother Nature! You wonderful goddess, you!!
We finally got home, and congratulated ourselves on having landed in such a beautiful place, so full of the love of nature. We fell asleep to the sound of barred owls calling. How lucky we are, we told each other, how blessed to live in such a gorgeous, natural, sylvan setting!
We fell asleep.
And we awoke to another gorgeous early summer day. I got my beloved little grandchildren ready to play outside. I was just so filled with gratitude toward Mommy Nature!
Out we stepped, into the golden morning sun. The flowers were in bloom. The grass was green. The angels were freakin’ singing in my ear.
I moved happily toward the new screen house that we’ve set up on our glorious green lawn. I moved inside the sheltered room.
I looked up. I saw a few bees and flies attached to the inside of the screen. A few as in roughly 5, 000 bugs. All attached to the INSIDE of my bug shelter.
Oh, well, I thought, that’s just part of nature!
“Oh, my!” I chirped to my baby grandson, who was sitting wide-eyed on my left hip. “The buggies flew inside our screen house, honey! Let’s go outside and knock them off the screen so they can fly away and be free!”
I stepped out of the screen house, moved gracefully across the gorgeous lawn toward the outside of the screen. I thought that I could just knock on the outside of the screen and thereby send the zillion icky buggies out the open front door.
I squared my shoulders. “Nature”, I told myself, “It’s all just a part of nature.”
I raised my right hand, preparing to tap on the screen. “Look!” I said to my sweet Johnny. “We can make the little buggies go away!”
At this point there were still angels singing. Mother nature and all that crap were still humming along in my mind and heart.
I prepared to lower my hand so I could knock on the outside of the gazebo.
And approximately 2 milliseconds before I lowered my palm onto the screen, I happened to notice THIS GUY.
The. Spider. From. Hell.
I did not scream, drop the baby and set the yard on fire.
For which I am extremely proud.
I did decide that the sun was too darn hot for us today. I did bribe the kids with ice cream. I did get us all safely inside where I made everybody strip down, allegedly for a “tick check” but really for a “could the world’s biggest spider possibly be hiding in our underwear” check.
I didn’t lock every door or window, but I did double and triple check every screen.
Holy horror, Batman.
After a nice lunch (eaten up at the highest table and after I checked the floor six times), I got all of us into bed for our afternoon nap. Naturally, I pulled back all the covers and looked under the bed, bureau and bookcase before we laid down. I checked the window screens a few times and stuffed a bunch of pillows between the bed and the wall.
And as we drifted off to sleep, my beloved babies cradled against me, my sweet doggie at our feet, I thought to myself,
“Mother Nature, you fucking old bitch.”