My Day, My Way

Want to spend a day with me? Let’s see what my perfect twenty-four hours look like.

I’m retired, so I’ll stay in bed until I feel like getting up. When I wake up, I will doze for a bit before waking again. Then I’ll lie there a while, letting random thoughts float through my mind. After reciting what day it is, I'll decide the order of my perfect day. I won’t make myself get up early and get busy. I will move slowly and deliberately, breathing deeply. When I get out of bed, I must first push up the blackout shades; then the glorious morning greets me through the window.

My body needs some stretching, and a 30-minute YouTube QiGong practice of breath and movement, with plenty of hip circles, loosens me up. One of those I watch is Kseny:

https://www.youtube.com/c/QigongwithKseny

After the easy movements, I'll do the at-home physical therapy exercises for my knee and hip, lift some weights, and then it’s time to clean up and get dressed. I’ll put on sunscreen, my makeup, and style my hair so I'm presentable to the outside world.

While the morning entertainment/news show is playing on the television, I peruse my email and delete all the junk en masse. I take care of anything important, then review text messages. Since it is a lovely morning, I’ll take a slow, easy walk at the pond and get to see the critters that live there. I drive to the area and walk the gravel trails with my binoculars over my shoulder. A bald eagle is perched high in a fir tree, so the geese have moved to the far side of one pond. The Merlin Bird ID app on my phone identifies birds I can’t see that are calling from the tree foliage.

Mallards and other ducks are floating, so I use the binoculars and identify a ring-necked duck paddling with his mate. It is beyond my understanding why they are called ring-necks, since the ring is around their bill.

After the nature walk, I blend a protein shake, make a cup of coffee with a splash of cream, and sit down to write. My back porch or the side patio are my two favorite spots outside in nice weather. The bird feeders are full of goldfinches, pine siskins, and chickadees. The chittering, dee-deeing, and songs all around me are happiness. The birds fight a few times, but usually they share. Lately, the female olive-feathered crossbills that visit are drinking from a water fountain; the males are bright orange. It is funny to watch them drink while a goldfinch nearby waits patiently for the larger bird to fly off.

The tree frogs' croaking always brings a smile. I can’t always find them, but they see me; if I approach, they become quiet. I found one once in one of our roses.

I’m not hungry, but I want something crunchy; I grab a handful of large Belmont peanuts and a tall glass of cold filtered water with some lemon squeezed in. When my husband returns from the gym, I put 2 buckets in the Jeep. We drive 30 minutes to another county to the Lynch Creek Dahlia Farm.

This farm is the owner's hobby, and he's expanded its uses to include some U-pick corn and photo opportunities. Their main business is Christmas evergreen holiday wreaths, which they ship to all 50 states.  

We’ll each pick our own bouquets and put them in the buckets we brought. The farm has clippers customers can use, along with flower buckets you can purchase. We wander the rows of flowers, clipping them stem by stem in the colors we like. $8 per dozen or .75 cents per stem. It has become a summer ritual. I select the tightly formed dahlias; I’ve learned that the ones with large spread-out petals go bad more quickly. My eyes are immediately drawn to the rows of purple blooms, but we want to see the entire 3 acres and walk carefully between the rows, stepping over stalks that have fallen in the wind. I examine each flower before cutting to ensure there isn’t a bumblebee napping inside. Some rows are muddier than others, and we take care not to trip on the drip hoses. I wander through rows of crimson, rose, dusty pink, garnet, amber, apricot, and white. Then I step into a section of grape, magenta, boysenberry, and plum dahlias. It is hard to stop snipping at one dozen, and we frequently end up with two dozen each, filling our home with vibrant arrangements. Some birds hide among the rows of flowers and flit away as we pass. The smiles of the U-Pickers are as bright and happy as the brilliant blooms.

I count the stems as I clip, and I spot my husband far away in the rows of colors he likes. As we meet up on the main path, I notice he’s picked peach, rose, lemon, and white ones with a burgundy center. He joins me at the booth and methodically rubber-bands each dozen. I add a bit of water to our buckets, just enough to keep them fresh as we drive. I slide cash into the metal box, paying for the amount we picked, and off we go.

We drive 40 minutes further to visit the truss-arch High Steel Bridge, another summer ritual. It is the tallest railroad bridge ever built in the U.S. and sits upward of 365 feet above the river. It is on a Forest Service Road (FSR), so we use GPS; although we've been there many times, it's still difficult to find the way.

We cruise next to a river that has yards of river rocks strewn along its edges, and in the winter, it floods the road we are on. It winds through the valley, and each curve reveals another beautiful farm with corn and vegetables growing next to streams. As we turn off the paved two-lane road, we begin to gain elevation on a gravel Forest Service Road. Grassy fields are on the right, leading up to a drop-off to a lake barely visible through the trees. Logged-off areas with stumps in green fields are on our left. We find the FSR that leads to the elevated bridge. As we arrive at the High Steel Bridge, we park on the edge of the gravel road and walk to the bridge center to look down at the gorge and take photos.

The area around the bridge is dangerous and closed to hiking or climbing. We can easily hear the rushing river below, and we don't see any birds flying but hear some in the dense woods. The breeze blows my hair gently, and the air is clean and fresh at the higher altitude. I admire the graffiti on the bridge, though some of it is inappropriate.

We stop at a grocery store on the way back for a restroom break and to pick up a snack, then get home in mid-afternoon. After snipping all the stems to help them take in water, I arrange my plum, magenta, garnet, and white dahlias in a tall, etched glass vase, and add fresh water. My husband is artistic and creates his own exquisite arrangement, just as when he brings me flowers from the store. His bouquet looks like an arrangement from the florist. He has cut the stems to different lengths, and the peach, rose, lemon, and white ones with their vivid burgundy center are beautifully displayed in a wide-mouth crystal vase.

Settled again on the back porch, I read a few chapters of my current novel and various articles on my iPhone, while the chipmunk zips around the yard. She drinks from the fountain, and I quietly watch as she climbs the feeder pole and squeezes through the feeder cage to sit in the tray. A chickadee slips through the cage on the other side, and they peacefully share the food.

I prepare a green salad and prep the rest of our dinner for the grill. Still warm outside, we close the porch screens to keep the yellow jackets away. We want to eat outside in peace, without insects harassing us.

Some flat, oval white clouds dot the sky. I watch as a corner of a white cloud turns pink, spreading like a bib. Its floating sister is melting toward a melon hue, and then both turn a pale purple as the sky darkens.

Once the sun has set, I retreat to the TV room and watch a few shows, alternating with reading Substack articles on my iPhone. I will scroll through my photos for inspiration and draft a poem to review and polish tomorrow.

I’ve had a relaxing and nature-filled day. Nothing was rushed; the drive was leisurely, and the sun warmed our faces as we wandered in the rows of dahlias. Our meal of grilled chicken and vegetables, along with the salad and sliced tomatoes, was delicious.

Near eleven o’clock, I begin preparations for bed: I wash my face, brush my teeth, and then climb into bed with a book. I’ll read until the falling book startles me, then remove my glasses, put the book down, and turn out the light. My back sighs when I settle into the mattress.

When I wake up, my last dream is fresh, and I giggle at the silliness of all the crazy nonsensical scenes.

I stretch my hips and legs before I get out of bed, then do more stretching beside the bed. After using the bathroom, I walk barefoot to the kitchen. I select an espresso pod and hit the start button on my Nespresso. I froth some cream and milk and pour it over the Nespresso crema. Food will come later. Looking out toward the back porch, I see it is another gorgeous day for a walk and sitting outside with the birds, tree frogs, and a chipmunk.

            Copyright © 8/25/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin 

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