A dear friend I knew over ten years ago taught me to love the mundane... the ordinary. And I send her a small thank you once again this morning.
Typically, one of my greatest spring and summer loves is weeding. Yes, truly.
In the back yard of the little cottage I rent is a small patio. The weeds pop up between the stones, seemingly overnight. During the cool morning hours, after I have given my garden a drink of water, you can usually find me sitting on these stones, gently easing the weeds out of the space between.
This small repetitive act is comforting to me, in a world where so very much is out of control, and I feel it connecting me to my Grandmother and Great Uncle who also loved their gardens.
I wonder when our colloquial speech patterns ever linked the word mundane to 'boring' (which is defined as: So lacking in interest as to cause mental weariness). This small act of beauty is so far from boring - it is peaceful, quiet, and soul soothing.