Here's my briefly described list of things that have delighted me in the past week and for which I am thankful:
1. The return of the ancient dancing woman to Farmer's market. Last seen dancing to to Greek music, she reappeared to the sound of marimbas from Zimbabwe via Santa Cruz.
2. A branch laden with persimmons on my desk
3. Birds on the water at Half Moon Bay
4. Black tea
5. Undying love
6. Stories, told and untold
7. Sunset over the Pacific
8. The dignity of very old dogs
9. Antique flavors: ginger, Greek olives, chocolate with chili, cardamom
10. Friends in all weathers
11. Sitting in a pool of sun on a cold November day
A dozen or two things that I am thankful for:
Some just-cut pine next to a pile of tangerines.
The sagacity of playwrights—Stoppard, Shakespeare, Brian Friel.
The long memory of inland mesas that is in me, and black-hearted blue waters on the Kona Coast.
The dusty contemplative green of Medieval French tapestries.
Geodes—plain on the outside and full of surprises.
To have my name spoken in wondering love.
Little scowling Venetian stone lions that make me smile.
Apple-scented brandy from old trees in Normandy.
Getting above the turbulence.
British detective stories.
The sounding of a temple bell.
My teacup from St.-Martin-in-the-Fields, even now with its fatal crack.
The meandering of an oxbow river like an artist’s signature below me on the land.
Tandoori spices; grilled onions and peppers with the mark of the grill on them.
Lime and ice and Perrier.
The impertinent wet noses of Black Labs.
Eyeglasses—the ability to see.
The intriguing thought of water on the moon.
Clover honey and orange pekoe tea—both which my Granny Belle gave me.
This song by Juan Diego Florez (J’ai perdu mon Euridice, Orfeo ed Euridice, Gluck):
The chance to say how glad all these things make me.