Roasted Chicken on Sundays

Every season has moments of enchantment that occur at when you least expect them.

Last night, I had to present an award at a spring banquet. While I knew I would be in good company, it was Friday and I was tired and I wasn't especially looking forward to a long night in a chair at a dinner table.

Fortunately for me, the dinner took place at an attractive venue with a view of sea grass and bay on one side and gently rolling hills on the other. My chair faced the bay and while I waited for my turn at the podium, I watched a pair of fishing boats trawl the bay in the sunset. The rays of the setting sun fired the boats and I was able to see that the fishermen were dragging nets. Somehow this fired my imagination, too. My body was inside but my spirit was out on the cool bay, feeling the wind in my hair.

When I finally got to the podium, I looked up in the other direction to see a perfect ball-of-orange sun setting in a deep-teal-and-indigo sky. I could barely concentrate on my lines, so brilliant was the sun.

I sat down at my table again. Now the boats were lighted by torches of some sort. I watched them drift out of sight when it grew dark and the event ended. I stepped outside to my car, surrounded by the welcome spring chorus of tree frogs and even loons and made the 11-mile trip into town.

Sometimes these small things make for a magical evening. It has happened time and time again in my life, and it always grounds me and gentles me after a period of stress.

On the way home, I notice more people on bicycles than I have in the past, something I suspect is spurred by the economy. I like that. We are embracing simpler things, out of necessity, perhaps, but perhaps we will carry these new habits forward into better times. A few weeks ago, amidst an April shower, I saw a man on a bike carrying a bouquet of spring flowers. I can only imagine the utter devotion that might inspire an older man to ride a bike to a flower shop or grocery store in the rain. Someone is very much loved, I hope.

We continue to find much to celebrate in this crazy world.

On Sunday I will roast chicken, rubbing it with herbs de Provence and surrounding it with whatever strikes my fancy. Usually it is onions, carrots and new potatoes coat in olive oil. The herb-y aroma will pervade my house.

The weekend. Life is good.

What about you? What signs have you read lately?


Mary said…
I think as we grow older we see more keenly and become more aware of the beauty around us. I've had my spirits lifted by watching kittens play and have made economic predictions based on the amount of traffic I see in high end food stores.
I agree. A few years ago I began noticing consumer, from cosmetics to food to cleaning supplies were offering less for more.
Fiona said…
That was a lovely post Mimi, spring is a magical time of year, particularly in your part of the world when winter is so long and so harsh. Enjoy your Sunday chicken.
Judy said…
What a beautiful post. I do believe that as we grow older (or at least thinking of me) I do notice more. When times are tough I try to remember the good times and the good things about being and living in this wonderful country. I like you love a roasted chicken with herbes de provence and whatever on the weekend with whatever. It makes a wonderful leftover meal for later in the week too. Have a great week.
Thank you, Fiona and Judy. I wish I could have shared the evening with you and my other blog friends.

There is always a lovely spring evening or two that sneak up on you and work their magic.

That's what I love about chicken on Sunday, Judy!
Anonymous said…
I agree. A lovely post. Hopeful. More than ever we all need the promise of Spring. My "signs" are a bit mundane. I noticed that I have to coax my canines back in the house when I let them out. This past week I've found them bathing in the sunlight. I open more wiondows in the house and the scent of fresh air permiates. I know it's Spring when I see wash on the lines in the neighborhood. I won't truly believe until my crabapple tree bloosoms in radiant pink.

The Milkmaid
Milkmaid, thank you for visiting again!

Yes, the flowering crab means spring in our neck of the woods. But, oh, did you know my little forsythia bush is in bloom?
Jann said…
Well said, turned out to be a beautiful evening for you after all.
Terry B said…
I'm smiling at the fact that you appeared to be oblivious to the event itself that had brought you there that evening, Mimi. But your post just goes to show that there are countless wonderful moments to be had if we only pay attention.
Jann, I have to admit I did not want to go! But the conversation was good and the students did a great job.

Ah, TerryB, I wasn't really oblivious. The students did a great job. I taught Com Arts for 7 years at that college, and I still have some friends there. But I was really enjoying the location.

The food was good, too.
Anonymous said…
John said…
It looks so delicious
Thanks for sharing

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