There’s just something about enjoying the fresh outdoors, while you type a blog post. If we were having coffee, you’d smell the moisture of the sprinklers in the distance which are spraying the Lucerne field. You may be somewhat amused at the fact that I can hardly finish a sentence because I have to run off every few seconds to catch my one-year-old. I’d have invited you at the crack of dawn, while the air is still crisp with the coolness of autumn, but quite frankly I’d rather try to sleep. Truthfully though, my plans of sleep were once more dashed by my little early riser and my first cup was enjoyed before the sun had fully plated the clouds in a golden glow.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you like all other’s with whom I enjoy coffee from time to time, that no, we don’t know much more than what has already been widely published across all local newspapers. It’s an ominous feeling of having your family name splattered across the papers, like chips and tomato sauce, ready for general gossip and consumption. Like vultures they were upon us before we even had time to grasp what had happened. It’s been hard to have coffee without the subject popping up. But I guess since my mind is so often clouded in grief, how could it not.
It’s Easter, so if we were having coffee you may have admired my colored eggs. It’s something I have always done each year, but this year we were a person short in the egg coloring team. None the less, the dash of red, green, blue, orange and yellow came out quite well. If we were having coffee, my daughter would have dragged you to admire our little basket. She’d proudly tell you how she had stuck on each of those little easter themed stickers. Some eggs look like little bunnies with ears and all.
And perhaps, by time I finish writing this post, if we were having coffee I’d offer you one of these hard boiled eggs, with a hot cross bun. Oh yes, they are edible. Mini-me can hardly wait for her egg hunt tomorrow. It will be the first time Micky-me partakes in the search since last year this time he was just too small.
If we were having coffee, I’d skip how bad the capacious consumption of coffee is. But perhaps you are a tea-lover in which case I’d offer you a rooibos. And perhaps as the wind blows though the leafs and the bird chirp in the sky, you’d sit back and chat about what’s been going on in your life. Perhaps the mundane may seem interesting, even relaxing for a while. We would find something to laugh about. I’d remember that I have much to be grateful for. And last but not least I’d thank you for stopping by.