Midweek, I went for an evening walk for the first time in ages. I looked up at 7 p.m. to enjoy the lingering evening light, and I saw the buds on the maples in silhouette against the darkening sky. I could hear the peepers and the Canada geese closing the show on winter. I could smell the cool damp of early spring. That was a blessing.

Early this morning, I tip-toed into my daughter's room to fix her covers. She had the blanket on her face, and she didn't stir, so I leaned in closer to listen to her breathing and make sure she was OK. Just then, her eyes opened, and she gave me a big smile, hugged her baby blanket, and went back to sleep. The love and the sense of security in her smile were a blessing.

Driving in, I passed a meadow filled with grazing deer who were as silent and still as statues. Their shadowy bodies gave texture and life to the landscape. That was a blessing.

As I type, I await my daughter's return from school after my own long and interesting day at a school where girl-fights, multi-lingual verbal sparring, and (prohibited) pubic displays of affection punctuated the routine of Friday. Blessings.

The list goes on. It's all beautiful.