Tonight my husband played his first baseball game as an adult. I got to attend my first baseball game as a baseball wife. It was a beautiful spring afternoon-turning into evening; honeysuckle, slight chill to the air, the sound thwack of the baseball hitting leather gloves. Across the treeline, someone had a brush pile burning which filled the air with the fragrant scent of wood smoke. The Tennessee Rambler, an old-fashioned steam engine gave us an intermittant gorgeous eerie soundtrack in the distance. Above, an occasional small piper twin engine crossed the sky, it's engine reverberrating in the low pressure system, evoking the feeling of a summer afternoon. We were treated to the music of an ice-cream truck, as it passed through an adjacent neighborhood, not once, but three times. The whole scene was an endless stretch of green sparkling trees and grass. I tell ya, it doesn't get any better than this.
(Plus, my husband made some amazing plays and is having the time of his life.)