LIfe at it's Best

I am rocking in my hammock (thank you Mamae and Papai!) with my  laptop bobbing with me. I'm swaying. I hear rustling, almost a crackling of the leaves as they respond to the breeze. I hear the Peterkins dog scrounging around hoping I will notice her and throw what used to be a green but is now a wet, drippy, brown tennis ball so she can fetch it.  I see mosquitoes zooming in for a bite.  I habitually swat at them - pests.  I smell (oh this is my favourite part), I smell sun. Sun that was hot and bold earlier today but is now tiring out and making room for night. I smell wet ground, musty and earthy. I smell pine, crisp and fresh.  I smell smoke on my already-worn-way-too-many-times jeans from the campfire that I enjoyed yesterday.  And I taste the leftovers of garlic and onions (I think I often use too much when I cook) from supper in my mouth.

I suspect in about an hour, I'll make another campfire beside the house in the rusty, old tire ring that the Roths picked up (thank you Roths!), find an appropriate stick and lob a fat marshmallow on the end and proceed to make my most anticipated summer dessert.  Whoever invented s'mores is a hero in my books.

There's not a thing I would change right now.