Most of the time, it really is the simple things that make me happy. How is it that I keep forgetting this? Why do I keep pushing, trying so hard, doing so much, instead of being quiet and still, seeing what I already have in abundance?
Happy, well-loved dogs. 
Long walks under beautiful skies with my three favorite boys.
Farmer’s markets and fresh food. A gorgeous head of lettuce with purple ruffled edges. Strawberries, Marionberry Jam, Rainier and Bing Cherries. One pound of fresh bay shrimp. 
Magic flea market finds. Yesterday, I saw a link to this, What’s Your Animal Personality Type (based on the Myers-Briggs types), and before I found mine, I thought to myself “well, it’s obvious, I’m a dog,” but it was even better, I’m the wild mother to the dog, a wolf. And then today, shopping at a flea market in Waldport, I found this.
Reading.
Secret messages from the Universe.
And a partner who says things like “there is nothing I’d rather be doing right now,” which makes me feel like this:
What simple things make you happy, kind and gentle reader?
