There are days when the world is more vibrant than usual. I often wonder how many people notice this. Today was one of those. It’s almost as if someone has increased the contrast of the view before me. I look out my front window at the familiar streets of my neighborhood, and the greens seem greener. The blues have turned from dull to vivid—making the sky seem like it’s to the point of bursting. The red shirt the neighbor boy is wearing screams at me from across the street, and the blacktop driveway is endless.

My favorites though are the trees—especially if the day is a windy one. There’s something about the way each leaf takes on a rare characteristic, a strong sense of confidence in its new found brightness that makes me feel contentment in everything. I could stare out my window for the entire length of the day, and longer still. The bliss with which they dance across the subtle breeze is envious.

I must sound silly, finding so much pleasure in something most people would fail to even notice. Maybe it is just the faux-artist that hides in me, but these are the days when not even a skilled hand and the finest paints could do the landscaped-canvas justice.

Later days, vibrant skies.