It was 78 degrees in Los Angeles today, a brief little pocket of summer in January. I opened all the windows, took down the last of the holiday decorations, soaked up the sunshine with my dog and picked avocados from our tree for the neighbors.
I think Hemingway described these kinds of days best:
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits.”
– Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast
I try to remember to document these days in some small way, these days with no problems except where to be happiest. They are all the sweeter for being fleeting. You can’t go looking for them. You just have to notice when they arrive, and live them as best as you can.