Outside, the blue jays are screaming havoc among the plums.  Like a scrim, fog hangs over the higher mountains, leaving the farm in a bowl of the last gold from autumn.  Meander has perched herself on a pillow on the couch – using one arm as respite, the other as chew relief.  And I, I sit with a huge mug of coffee and a day of words ahead of me.

Last night, I took the pup out for her last walk, and as she sniffed her way through the yard, I gazed up. I stared into the purple blackness of the night and watched the moon, her pie-body just past half. The seas and mountains there so serene, silver in the night-time of color.

There is nothing quite like getting to know a place or a person for the first time. To begin to understand how the tractor trailers on the highway below speak closer when the clouds are low. Or to come to see that he puts his neck forward this way to make a point he especially wants me to hear. To know that around 8pm that email with arrive and that it will be long and that the chat will light up with that green dot around 10am when work draws him in.

Perhaps this is why I have moved so often, why I know so many people, why new experience excites me so – it is the getting to know that fills me up.  Like I’m building a dragon’s hoard of shiny gold from mannerisms and the way star-shine strikes leaves. I take pleasure, no I take joy in that.

Then, too, there is the way I can picture my friend of 20 years in her kitchen making dinner, the periwinkle on her many cabinets, the way she moves from dishwasher to drawer. Or the image of her in England, in a house I have not yet seen, but there she is, crouched back on her heels coloring with her kids.   The comfort and strength of the familiar.

It is the details that seem to matter most. The “big picture” so broad that even our peripheral vision can’t take it in. So we settle here into our favorite afghan, into the soft scent of the place we call home, into that voice that knows how to say to us. We leave the big to One who can manage it; we live here, in tiny, spectacular moments.

Today, I relish the snuffles of a sleepy hound dog and the mew of a cat who sneaks out when the pooch is asleep. I treasure the taste of almost too sweet coffee and the prospect of cheese toast on a damp morning.

The details.  Just the details of this gorgeousness that is my life.

What are the beautiful details of your day?  I’d love to hear about them.