You know the chapter in Anne of Avonlea where Anne and a few of her dearest have a golden picnic? I always loved that chapter. Truth be told, I always wanted to have my own sort of "re-enactmet" of that day: make the food and the treats that they did, sans drinking water straight from the brook, gather all the goodies together in a picnic basket, and trek out into nature with some of my lovelies. I think AK and I shall do it still one day.
My sweetest part of the chapter, though, is the glow of it; the delight in all the pieces of it, the joy in simplicity. Reading the Anne of Green Gables books is a lesson in seeking simplicity, delighting in the little bits, the everyday, the mundane, and that is one of the many reasons why those books rank high on my list of all-time favorites.
The other day was a day that felt golden, like Anne's picnic day. Anne would find a more poetic way to say this, but it was just a really good day. When you wake up to snow falling, what could be more magical? I'm pretty sure AK thought the snow was her own special gift and I love that about it. She reveled in it; pulling open our balcony door to step outside and watch it fall 85+ times, saying, "I love the snow, Mommy" about every 16 minutes, and doing snow-induced joy dances around the apartment until bedtime that night. The girl loves that white fluffy stuff with a passion, and I think she won't ever stop eating it.
We ate breakfast as fast as she could put it away and donned our coats and gloves and snow boots so that we could experience our first snowfall of the season in all its glory. Between my kid and our dog, joy was flooding the property of our apartment complex. We walked, we held our tongues out to catch snowflakes, we made footprint trails in the fresh, untouched parts, and my phone held out just long enough to capture my girl in her element. Pictures like these are the best kind. It's just her.
When our fingers and toes starting losing all feeling we went back inside and baked magic bars, nothing was more fitting. We listened to music, we read, we wore comfy clothes and watched a classic music, all while seeing the snow continue to fall outside our windows. When J came home that evening we had roasted tomato basil soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. We built a fire and made AK's life a complete dream with a s'more and an episode of American Ninja Warrior. I don't think there was a happier kid as she laid her head down to sleep that night.
A day like that, ended with book stacks and an episode of Madam Secretary, is the very kind that gets planted in my memory as one of those great ones. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary, or seemingly significant that happened. There was no big news or no life-changing decisions made. There was just us, having our day, doing the things that we still needed to, but throwing a little bit of gold confetti in there as well. The everyday was the significant part
I saw the goodness of the Lord dotted across every bit of that day; soft reminders that He's present and lovely and so very generous. I can't get over how He continues to help me discover more of the beauty that exists in the minutes that make up the hours of my days, but every time I think I've gone the depth He says, "no, here's a little more. A little more of me shown through all the pieces of life I've given you to life."
Those golden days; they aren't as scarce as I thought.