Small pleasures
By PAT WICK
© Another Day in the Country
Have you ever watched a kitten try to climb a corn stalk? This little black cat is called Licorice — so named by the kids from California — and he's wandered across the street over into my garden for the first time. He came because I was there picking beans and he wanted some company. His mother is busy with other things.
Licorice tried and tried to climb that tall corn stalk, but he just couldn't do it. Long after I'd gone into the house I could glance toward the garden and see his little black shape bouncing up and down in the corn shadows. Zsa Zsa, his mother, came by to check on him and he followed her out of the corn, brushing against her side, wanting to cuddle, hoping she would lay down in the shade like she did a couple of weeks ago and let him nurse. Licorice doesn't know this, yet, but those days are gone — Zsa Zsa is expecting again. The mother cat stops because Licorice is impeding her progress and she licks his face — almost as if she is explaining to him the impending situation. Just watching them — small pleasures.
Our corn was ready yesterday for eating. City folk just do not know the deliciousness of fresh-picked corn. Corn growers keep attempting to breed sweeter and sweeter corn so that you think it's fresh when folks get it at the supermarket, but us country gardeners do know the difference. This is the fourth summer that we've attempted to grow corn in Tooktime Tim's corral and this is the summer we are mightily successful — we picked 25 dozen ears of corn yesterday and sat down to eat our fill. Small pleasures.
Of course, freezing the rest of it on one of the hottest summer days so far was a trial but we nibbled bits of corn as we cut it off the cob — mmmm good! After we'd cleaned up the mess, we put on our swimsuits, grabbed the noodles that the kids from California had been playing with, and headed straight for the lake. It was late, late in the day. We were pooped but finally cool and we watched the sun set as we bobbed around in the water. Small pleasures.
We finally finished up the remodeling of the attic at Jake's Place — just in time for a group of 30 women from Wichita who were on a retreat and coming to Ramona. To accommodate 30 people in our three guest houses, we had to have the attic room completed with five beds and matching bedspreads. Small pleasures. Wrestling the carpet in the second story window and getting it glued to the floor was definitely NOT pleasurable, nor was shoving four more mattresses up the narrow steep stairs; but when it was done, it was nice! (We always seem to work better under pressure!)
We've had back-to-back guests for three days now and hanging sheets on the line for bed after bed has become a ritual. In this heat, they dried almost immediately, but while I hung them on the line the breeze would blow through the wet linen and flap against my arms and face — cool, cool, COOL! Small pleasures.
Our guests did not eat all the cinnamon rolls that my sister made and this morning I found a stray roll wrapped in tinfoil on the kitchen counter. I heated it briefly in the microwave and had it for breakfast with a cup of tea. Delicious — even day old. Small pleasures.
Small pleasures occur every day, minute by minute — not only in my life, but in yours as well — if we take the time to note them. Mine were multiplied this morning, underlined, noted, because I knew that I'd be telling you about them. Just for kicks, make a list of all the small pleasures that come your way on another day in the country!
