Our latest guests were delightfully happy to chill and relax.
I was a little antsy staying in for so much of the time. I felt I should be a better tour guide. There is so much beauty here in this county, and so much to do, so I found myself repeatedly asking questions: “Wouldn’t you like to go a gallery? See a play? Walk a hiking trail in a state park ? Drive to an overlook? Shall we visit the farmer’s market? Do you want to make a picnic and go to the bluffs? Should we go out in our kayaks?
But no, they were happy to stay put. And really, the weather was uncharacteristically warm. We could read on the beach, listen to waves. We could sip coffee in our beach chairs to watch the sunrise, sit on the deck for “happy hour” before dinner. We put together jigsaw puzzles; we watched movies at night. We listened to the stories of the ups and downs of each others’ lives. But I kept wondering if that was enough.
Finally, my friend reminded me of something important. “You forget, Ann, that we don’t get to see this all the time,” my friend rightly told me. “We are perfectly happy being right here, doing nothing except enjoying this beautiful place.”
And of course, she was right. I do see this water every day of the year. I routinely watch cranes and hummingbirds, pick wildflowers and berries, gaze at clouds, stars, the moon. There is never a day without breathtaking beauty.
Last week’s sunset for example.
Or this scene, earlier this summer, from a friend’s dock.
And, oh, you know, just driving to a concert on the other side of the peninsula.
Or this swale, only a few minutes from our house, whose quiet always mesmerizes.
May it never be that my reaction to beauty turns ho hum- or that these scenes I see before me every day are not enough to satisfy.