All things bright and beautiful

This was the month of cherries and peaches, of green apples beyond the grape arbor, of little dandelion ghosts in the grass, of sour grass and four-leaf clovers, of still dry heat holding the smell of nasturtiums and dying lilacs. This was the best month of all and the best day. It was not birthday, Easter, Christmas, or picnic, but all these things and something else, something wonderful, something utterly unknown.

"My home is far away"--- Dawn Powell

I'm feeling happy, for no reason at all.

And you know something?

That's the best feeling in the whole wide world.