Savor the Beauty

Over thirty years ago, right after we were married, my husband and I hunted morel mushrooms. Until I met my little dumpling, I didn’t even know they existed.

We spent hours combing the woods, gingerly bagging each one, and then we lugged the sacks home. After giving them a good soak in saltwater, we fried them in butter. 

Talk about savor.

Now we live on acreage of our own, but we haven't hunted mushrooms for the past several years. 

Love my trees.

A few days ago, just as we'd finished our morning coffee, I nudged my husband's arm. “Want to see if the mushrooms are up, honey?”  

He grinned. "Yeah." 

Well, I didn't have to ask him twice.

Like a speeding train, he bolted out the front door. Still in my pajamas, and like the young woman I used to be, I followed him.

My husband searched the edge of the woods, while I circled a hickory tree. Empty nut casings lay sprinkled throughout the grass. Thank you, Mr. Squirrel.

A gust of wind blew in, and my pajama bottoms flapped against my legs. I smiled. Felt like God himself was breathing on me.

I moved to the next tree, admiring the purple violets, dandelions, and black walnut shells on the ground. I marveled at the brilliant splashes of color, wondering if it didn’t hack God off when we failed to appreciate the beauty He’d created. 


Why do people poison dandelions? Look at that color.

A rustle in the leaves caught my attention, and I flinched, thinking my old friend Mr. Copperhead had returned. (I can honestly say I don’t savor snakes, not boiled, fried, or otherwise, thank you very much.)

“It’s just a garter snake,” my husband said.

I stared at my open-toed house shoes. Although I had thick white socks on, I knew those wouldn’t protect me from a snakebite. Thanks, honey. I feel so much better now.

Maybe Mr. Squirrel lingered nearby. The thieving critter could at least cough up an extra hickory nut for Mr. Copperhead.

But snakes don’t eat nuts, do they?

After poring over the ground a bit longer, and still not finding any mushrooms, we went back inside the house.

Later in the evening, as I sat in my rocker, I pondered the morning’s events. “Honey,” I said, “what do you think God’s favorite color is?”

“Well, it's probably blue or green. He used a lot of both of them.”

I smiled at the mention of my two favorite colors. “Good point.”

Yep, blue must be one of God's favorite colors.

Eying my husband, I thought about all we’d done together, how much I loved this man—how much I loved God.

Leaning back in my chair, I closed my eyes, savoring the beauty of the moment—the day—my life.

I was grateful.


Note: Today's post is part of the CW blog chain. The topic is "Savor". Please check out my sidebar, further down on the right, to see some great posts by other writers.