Golden hour when insects, spiders webs and dewdrops glitter in the sunlight.
Rain during sunshine while I go on the hunt for a rainbow.
Rustling in my garden where frogs are hopping around.
The sound of the grasshoppers’ orchestra in sizzling July.
Leaves changing color and snowing yellow, red, brown and green on their way to the ground.
Mushrooms in moss.
Red berries on naked branches.
A first bite of a summersweet and sour apple that has never seen a grocery store.
The sound of water running through a small creek in the forest.
The first taste of homegrown tomatoes.
Waking up to fresh, crisp snow, still untouched and sparkling in the sun.
Laughing children sledding down a hill nearby.
Christmas markets in town with vendors, live music and strings of light in the darkness.
The sound of young male night owls calling out in the night to assert their dominance, yet sounding like the cutest squeaky toys.
Shivering stars and a full moon when all is still and quiet.
Spears of green cutting through the winter crust and stretching toward the sun who welcomes life back for a new season.
Little robins with their red chests, clutching nesting materials in their tiny beaks.
The hollow, echoing sounds of a woodpecker carving out a dead tree.
Tadpoles in the water.
Flowers in every color and shape cascading across the landscape as bees and butterflies get to work.
Late summer evenings where it never gets fully dark and the scent of herbs and honeysuckle perfume the air.
His arms around me as I settle in to a calm, peaceful sleep, like waving seaweed at the bottom of the ocean.
Oopsenheimer