Yesterday I spent a good part of the day down in our lovely Wilcox Park, and it was the perfect way to spend an early spring day. Everything seemed to be precisely the way it should be, the way evolution, or intelligent design, or nature, or God intended it to be. The greening-up grass appeared to be perfectly placed beneath the enormous trees with their perfectly shaped buds, and the trees seemed to be standing just the way they should be on such a pretty day. Even the sky was just right in its utter blueness from east to west. I took many turns around the park, listening to my iPod and walking slowly and contentedly. I recall passing a few families who were going very slowly and seemed to be completely enjoying each other’s company. I remember thinking I could walk forever on such an ideal April day. Even the colors seemed perfect. I noticed groups of small purple crocuses gathered silently together and showing off their bright shirts, and a few yellow daffodil blossoms were waving in the warm wind. Down in the central meadow, a gray magnolia tree was presenting some early white blossoms to passers-by, so I stopped for a moment to enjoy their faultless beauty.
As I walked home, my own humble life seemed as spotless as all the loveliness I saw in the park on this great day.
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