A Pastel Sort of Day

A grand baby sleeps soundly in her snowy white crib, her black hair such contrast on bright white sheet peppered with tiny pink rose buds, in the rose bedroom that she calls "my room" when she is at Grammies house. What a blessing to be able to watch her for a couple of days while her mommy and daddy go to a convention. Music soft and soothing playing in the background. Sunlight mixing with shadows, dancing close in the gentle breeze. Iced meadow tea a golden sort of green in a frosty glass in the window sill next to me. A stack of fabric in baby colors on the table waiting to be cut into little blocks for a baby quilt, pastels that seem to match the very essence of the day. My head swimming with plans for the flower beds, plans to turn two areas into a proper English country garden. Foxglove and hollyhocks, dotted with daisy's, echinacea, yarrow and lots of lavender. Little stone pathways that meander here and there. Its such fun to dream and plan and plan and dream. Both ways are fun. The old picket fence needs painting, but I sort of like it the way it is, rustic, old and less than perfect by some standards, yet, so full of character and a sort of life experience look to it. Its an easy sort of day, a pastel sort of day.

I watched Mei-Ling and Emery play this morning at his office, he is just as good a grandpa as he was and is a dad. Laughing, stopping his feet playfully, a tiny one copying him, giggles spilling over like a waterfall in summer. There is so much love around me. Kisses and several hugs as a young mother, who is also a loving daughter, said her good-byes to her baby and her mother too for the weekend. I watch her get in the car, mature, wise, beautiful and so confident. I feel flooded with love and pride for her. I feel this way so many times with my children... they are the delights of our hearts.

Life, my friends is good.