Framing a life

Last night we were watching TV -- some old British show from the 70's I'd picked up from Netflix on a whim -- and I happened to notice, reflected in the screen of the ancient video player we can't quite bring ourselves to throw away, that there was an amazing sunset happening.

So I excused myself from the room and went down to the back deck to take pictures. Eventually my husband joined me and we decided to walk the dog before it got dark. While out walking we were invited up to share a glass of wine with some neighbors, and by the time we got home again it was dark and time for bed.

... which is what is nice about about weekends, about living in such a friendly neighborhood, about the way the days are warming and lengthening, about not having to worry about where the kids are or supervising them, about not making plans -- we can take the day as it comes, and enjoy the many gifts in it.

So, of all the pictures I took -- two of which have a heron flying across them, some of which have more blue in them, two of which have white adirondack chairs and a table on the beach in the foreground -- this is my favorite, because I like the way the sunset is framed by our snowflake lights, the deck, the trees, the roof and the wall. Maybe life is a little like that: moments of brightness and color and beauty framed and balanced by the ordinary in such a way that it all becomes some lovely pleasant whole.