Zen...or Something Like It

I am trying to learn how to deal with what needs to be dealt with, and to relax and enjoy life more; easier said than done.

In my effort to slow down and be more "mindful," I took some time this past weekend to venture outside and soak in the changing seasons.  Our apple tree was starting to leaf out, and our peach tree was ready to explode with pink blossoms.  Our Forsythia bush looked lovely, rather than scraggly, with its cheerful yellow flowers.  The wind was a bit brisk, though, so my meanderings were cut short so I could go inside and warm up.

Once inside, I felt the need to hunker down a bit.  While the calendar may proclaim "spring," there is still a part of me that is reluctant to release my hold on winter.  I still reach for my fuzzy afghan when I curl up on the sofa.  My throat still demands tea--hot and sweet--to soothe it.  I still pad around the house in woolly socks rather than bare feet.  And I cannot quite put away the winter recipes...

So, once I got inside and lit a few candles to ward off the cloudy gloom that had started to settle in, I headed for the kitchen and turned on the oven.  Flipping through my recipes, I paused at a certain well-worn card:  Cinnamon Rolls with Vanilla Cream Cheese Icing.

Upon hearing the clanging of mixing bowls and measuring cups, a small helper joined me in my mixing and measuring.  My Middle One watched intently as I kneaded the dough; she snatched finger-fulls of the sweet cinnamon filling when I turned my back (perhaps just a moment longer than was necessary).

Having recently heard that smell and taste are the senses most strongly associated with memory, I encouraged her to smell and taste everything...perhaps a bit of this day will linger on.