Sun and simple joys


After a snow-filled Winter lasting seven months, Spring finally decided to show her pretty daffodil face this weekend. Cue the Hallelujah chorus. We filled the weekend with the most ordinary of things, but ordinary things under the glow of an April sun seem to take on a hint of something more. I jumped on a trampoline, and my daughter brought me wildflowers, small stems plucked from obscure corners under the garden shrubs. I lay down on a wicker bench in the sun and closed my eyes for a full twenty minutes, ignoring the fact that the sun is poison to the brown spots on my face. I read an entire book in one sitting.

We packed up two kids, scooters, balls, the dog, and a bag filled with little sausages and buns, and we drove to the lake in the woods. We roasted the sausages over an open fire, and I felt happy enough to break my no-people food policy and sneak the dog a few bites–even after he tried to run away. My son poked his sister in the eye with a stick as expected, and the dog leash nearly caught on fire.

We sat in the sun, with the smell of firewood and smoke weaving its way into my hair and hoodie, and it was glorious. I cried a little behind my sunglasses because I will miss the lake and the trees and the running path that weaves between them. We drove home and the sadness lingered, so I put on some music and I cooked shredded pork and baked homemade strawberry shortcakes for dessert. Cooking usually sucks the joy right out of me, but my children’s laughter floated in on the breeze through the open door, and my husband sat nearby puzzling, and the joy crept in and strengthened the marrow of my bones. My husband told me “You’re easy to please” adding “Thank God” immediately after, and I thought those words were some of the kindest and most nourishing he’s ever spoken.

After dinner, the strawberries tasted ripe under a layer of whipped cream, and so too, does the promise of spring–ripe with old/new beginnings, with laments and simple, extraordinary joy.


The book: Freefall to Fly by Rebekah Lyons.

The music: Ghosts upon the Earth by Gungor

The shortcakes: From the Food Network


  • Ahhh, it is great to come out of a winter season, jump a trampoline, spoil a dog, hold a new book, hear you are easy to please and believe it has been true these recent days, to see yourself in April light and thank God.

    I had people in my house for the first time in a long time – and a little visiting dog! – and felt rich in April light here. I start this week, renewed and refreshed. Enjoyed your post!

    • KimberlyCoyle

      Rich in April light–what a beautiful image:) Thanks for reading, Marilyn.

  • Kimberly Amici

    It’s so true that ordinary feels better under the April sun. I am so itching to get outside and do work that I would not usually look forward too. I am even enjoying the inside spring cleaning with the windows wide open.

  • Teresa C