This Valentine’s eve, there was snow. Not terribly much, but Word cleared the walk and scattered salt before we turned in last night, and today I drew a heart in a patch of snow and sent her a picture of it.
Honestly, that would have been done even if this wasn’t Valentine’s Day, and probably that is the point. I walk through the grocery store, and my purchasing criteria are a mix of what we need, what is economical, and at least one thing that will delight. The mercy, the wonder, the really splendid part of all this is that these are not mutually exclusive demands. Usually it’s some ingredient that’s needed to make something later. (Yes, we adore good chocolate, but honestly, I’m delighted by home-made corn muffins, and she likes baking them). She is delighted by the flowers I plant, the food I can harvest from our little meadow, and little sparkly objects that are fun for me to make.
This isn’t to say we don’t like fancy things (the American Craft Council spring shows are coming up, after all), or that we couldn’t benefit from nomming a few fewer calories. But putting on a big show on one day can suggest that the other days are less important, or that the self you present on a regular basis isn’t the one you most want your Beloved to see.
I like this version better: Each day _is_ when you send love; each day is when you laugh together, kiss, snuggle; each day could have an amazing dawn, or a spectacular sunset, or rain, or sleet, or hail…..but it always has that constant awareness: I am known and I am loved and that makes us the lucky, or the blessed, however you choose to see it.