The Shepherd's Heart: Still ...

Sitting on the bank of a lake or creek somewhere; sunshine gradually warming me from the lingering effects of a too long, too cold, too wet winter; warm breeze playfully pushing tiny ripples across the surface of the water.

Watching the sunset from a campsite in one of the local state parks, watching the last embers of the evening's campfire glow in the late night darkness, keeping watch on the blackest of skies in case a star falls from the heavens.

Picnicking with family and friends; enjoying fresh home-grown tomatoes, string beans, just-picked roastin' ears, and zucchini along with deep fried catfish and creamy slaw.

Canoeing down the rapids of an Ozark Mountain stream, boating a nice sized smallmouth or largemouth or crappie or walleye, hearing eagles cry overhead, wading the ankle-deep shallows, falling to sleep to the sound of the river rushing past.

The smell of a freshly mown lawn, fragrant flowers awakening all around, trees filled with green leaves and blossoms, warm rains and cool evenings.

Twin cylinders purring, wind in my face, road speeding past below my feet.

"Oh, no!"

"Don't do that."

"Turn off the alarm."

"I don't want to wake up!"

"I was having the most excellent dream!"

Darn.

Still cold.

Still gloomy.

Still February.