One of my favorite things to do on well-lit summer evenings is to go for a walk. Sometimes (and especially if Brigid joins) the walk is a brisk one, almost like a slow run, is four or five miles long and leaves me hot and tired, with curlier than usual hair thanks to the PA humidity. Other times, the walk is an introverted one, time set aside for exercise, yes, but also thinking, daydreaming and observing the pretty houses and well-manicured yards that line the shady streets. And every now and then, the walk is a short one, a quick jaunt up the road to drop off rent or mail a letter; just enough time to really savor the warmth and smell of summer that seems to come and then go so quickly as the evenings grow shorter.
On one such walk a couple of evenings ago, I happened to notice a little streak of blue sidewalk chalk leaking out from underneath a rain barrel that serves, up the street from me, as a source from which to water plants.
It may sound silly, but happening upon this was like happening upon a small treasure. It was an unexpected burst of happiness and creativity on an otherwise mild evening. And it made my day.