Today was like a breath of fresh air in this Spring which has dragged its feet … that is, until today.

It was a perfect Spring day – the kind that poets crow about and painters pick to feature on their canvas.

When I left in the early morn there was heavy dew on the grass and there were puddles galore in the street from last night’s rain.

The air was still except for the twittering of the songbirds hidden high in the trees.  A few sparrows escaped the clan and instead gathered to bathe in the pools of rainwater.

It was peaceful as I walked past the stately homes on Emmons Boulevard.

I saw a man packing the trunk of his car with golf clubs.  He saw me and gave me a sheepish grin, so I asked if he was playing hooky and he simply said “yup” flashing a mouthful of gleaming teeth.  I thought it would be pretty soggy out there on the golf course, but kept that comment to myself.

A pair of squirrels were playing hide-and-seek on a neighboring lawn, and their fur was wet and matted down from romping in the now-tallish and sopping wet grass.

There were countless iridescent trails left behind by slugs or snails and I crossed the path of at least a half-dozen worms that wiggled across still-damp sidewalks, traversing the pavement to reach the dew-laden grass.

I resisted the urge to scoop up one longish worm which I actually stepped over.  It was taking its good old sweet time crossing my path and I saw a pair of robins licking their chops in anticipation of their breakfast.

I was mindful of the huge magnolia tree that I’ve been watching the past week.  The first hint of pale pink buds was evident.  They have not yet unfurled.  When they do, I must take a picture before a gusty wind scatters them hither and yon.

The twitters and tweets intensified as I walked underneath the canopy of trees which line the Boulevard.  I wondered how long before the leaves would come out and obliterate all the birds and their nests.  Then it will seem like the trees are singing on their own.

Just as I was musing over that thought, I heard a sharp yelp and it took me aback.  It pierced the air amidst the symphony of whistles and birdsong and sounded like a dog in distress.  I stopped in my tracks and looked around, but could see nothing.  I started walking again, and there was another sharp yelp.  It was close – in fact the noise seemed to come from the other side of the worn stockade-type fence.  Hoping the animal was not in dire straits, I searched for and found a narrow space to peer through.  What I saw next gave me my smile for the day.

A tan-colored puppy was chasing its tail.  It was going round-and-round at a dizzying speed, and every time he was lucky enough to catch that long tail, he’d nip at the tip.  He must have bitten  down too hard, thinking it was a Milk Bone biscuit perhaps, and he let out a yelp.  Of course, his outburst caused him to lose the grip on his tail.  He looked surprised … like “where did it go?” and soon he began his relentless chase once again.  You couldn’t help but smile at his antics.  Was the weather making him feel giddy like me?

I crossed the bridge into Wyandotte, walked a short piece and double-backed to start walking home.  I chose another route, just as scenic, in a different neighborhood.  I often pass a corner house with a double lot that is filled to capacity with ground cover and different lawn ornaments and garden benches.  While it is a little early for the display, all year-round this house has a flip-top aluminum bin with doggie treats inside.  The sign says “For our friends – please help yourself” – there stood a toy poodle and his pet parent right next to the bin when I rounded the bend.  That little dog’s short and stubby pom-pommed tail was wagging and it was wiggling its whole body in anticipation of the treat.  Its owner fished him out one biscuit and he took it from her palm and it was gone in an instant.  All done; they were ready to move on.

I thought of the children’s’ nursery rhyme about “snips and snails and puppy-dogs’ tails” as that had been some of the items I saw as I wended my way through Wyandotte.

It was a morning filled with simple pleasures … for each and every one of us.