The sounds call from the open window...
Laughter from the park.
The sounds of birdsong.
The splaying of water from the sprinkler heavily mist the air; miniature rainbows are birthed in the droplets that fragment the light of the sun.
Pallid snow still caps the distant mountains—hazy blue in the afternoon light.
The white and gray drenched clouds race intermittently overhead, as the odor of lilac still permeates the air with its rich aroma.
The barbecue is beckoning to me; it wants to be used.
I rise from my space and relish in the fresh air, wafting in waves about me and the glorious smells it brings: freshness, invigoration, awe.