Simple Pleasures

“Tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free.” -- Quaker hymn

I have never been one for simple pleasures. Not me. I like grandiose things like trips to Europe and weeks at the beach, going to Disney World and traveling somewhere in this country for a week or two on a whim. For years Mr. Clark’s income supported (or almost supported) that lifestyle and it was wonderful.

The year of unemployment has whittled that back significantly. We don’t even have cable TV anymore…I have been struggling with trying to come to love “life’s simple pleasures.” I have good days and bad.

Last night I got home from my emergency room shift, bone tired and emotionally worn out. There were three deaths during my 12-hours and I handled two of them. There were long waits for treatment, and lots of very sick and/or very grouchy people.

On the way home, instead of focusing on how lucky I was to be working in the ER - rather than a patient there - I was reminiscing on all the grand trips we used to take, and all the fine adventures we used to have. Flying down 316 with the windows down and the sunroof open (we no longer have A/C in either of our cars…) I was feeling very, very sorry for myself.

Home was quiet, except for the animals – four dogs, three cats, some birds, and a stray kitten I had just found a home for that day. After feeding them all, and pouring myself a big glass of wine, I settled onto the back porch swing…It was a cool evening, quite pleasant – not nearly as hot as the last few week’s have been. The lightning bugs were flickering, and the wild birds were chirping as they settled for the night or caught the last of the day’s mosquitoes.

It’s been a good year for baby birds in our yard, with several cardinal couples successfully raising not one, but two broods. There are two families of woodpeckers – one large, one small in size – that have raised four or five babies in the tree just beyond the porch. A family of blue jays has been wrecking havoc on the front and side porches, swooping down loudly to steal cat food and terrorize the other birds. The little fish pond in the back is a welcome stop for all kinds of birds, as they drink and wash and chirp at each other…

I finished my wine as the cicadas and tree frogs cranked up. And, as it got dark, I began to settle into the rhythm of the simple pleasure.

Inside, the stray kitten was mewing from the room where he’s been kept. He’d been alone all day and it was time to play. I rolled up some paper balls for him and taunted him with some string. He was hilarious, dashing around the room, chasing those paper balls and killing that string. He purred and rolled and leapt with such enthusiasm – his little being so filled with joy - it was hard not to feel a deep sense of contentment begin to set in…

Another glass of wine, and some time spent reading the newspaper and catching up on magazines, all four dogs snoring loudly and happily on their dog beds nearby. A cat on my lap, another stretched out beside me – both purring and lounging and exuding calm the way only a fat, happy cat can do…
These simple pleasures, they are the real thing.

You might think it was the combination of wine and fatigue that helped me access my inner simple pleasure meter last night, and maybe they were factors. But today, is another beautiful, cool, dry day – no excessive heat, no humidity. The A/C is off and all the windows and doors are open. The air smells fresh and clean. The birds are chirping outside.

I picked several nice tomatoes, some peppers and a few cucumbers from the garden this morning and filled all of my bird feeders. The dogs and cats are once again snoring and purring, this time around my computer desk…The little stray gets to go to his new home today, and I will have a fresh tomato sandwich for lunch. Another month of bills has been paid; no one is sick; there will be time for more wine and lightning bugs and cicadas on the porch tonight….

Maybe simple pleasures are the only real pleasures…and, that’s why we have to photograph the trips and the beach weeks and the bigger days. They are so spectacular they overwhelm, and they are fleeting, leaving us with a sense of emptiness and loss when they’re over.
I’ve never felt that way after finishing a tomato sandwich or playing with a kitten or watching a bird family feed. There is much to be said for simplicity.