Before we left home, I promised myself that this trip would find me paying close attention to the small and ordinary things, because, as we all know, they are the big things.
I like to believe that I notice the small gifts that every day offers—but days can get away from you, and by sundown, you realize you’ve spent most of your time and energy focused on the frivolous and unimportant.
I said all that to say this. The last two nights have found Cloud Nine parked in a lovely camping spot in Auburn, Alabama.
Outside our door, a patchy slope shows off purple and yellow wildflowers, while a fence runs around the property in a steady white line.
Normally, we wouldn’t stay two nights in a place that wasn’t on our radar, so to speak, but The Man hasn’t felt well, so we were thankful to find a nice place to settle into for a couple days.
This morning, I left to run a few errands—post office, drug store, that sort of thing—and when I returned, I stopped to take a photo of the wildflowers out front, admiring their unruly beauty.
Intent on cutting a few stems to take inside, I stepped in the RV to grab a pair of scissors, and that’s when my eye caught sight of something on the counter.
The Man—my ailing, wonderful man—had beat me to it. There, in front of the kitchen window, sat a cup overflowing with purple and yellow abundance. Simple, ordinary wildflowers—my gift of the day.
Until next time, sweet friends, seek out the simple, ordinary gifts in your day, and thanks for keeping me company here, and for sharing this journey with me. It means a lot.