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It was a Fountain Kind of Day

Bright blue skies, mild temperatures and the cheerful chirping of birds ... that's what I woke to last Friday.  Now this might not be terribly exciting for some, but living in the Northwest in the month of February...this is not the norm.  After downing a cup of coffee laden with the perfect amount of cream, I donned jeans and rubber boots to venture outside.

Natural Fountain Zion National Park...A Gentle Trickle
The air was crisp, the grass still wet, the ground was a fountain kind of day.  You see, I adore hearing the cascading splashing of fountains.  Only one problem...I couldn't find the adapter to plug the cord into the outlet.  It seems it had been commandeered for the Christmas lights, and was nowhere to be found.  Not to worry, a quick trip to the local hardware store yielded the object of need and a few wants.  Pots of already sprouted daffodils with their dancing blooms, heady grape hyacinth and pansies in colors of white and peach.  A delightful afternoon was in store.

Returning home with my bounty, I set about to enjoy the day's brilliant surprise.  The first order of business was to get the fountain running.  It had been on a hiatus since early November.  Remove a little debris and excess water, turn on the power and voila!  The magical bubbling of my obsessions.  My first real memory of a fountain is the one located on Park Street in Eugene.  It is wide and flat, with water that trickles over the edges like an infinity pool.  The sound is gentle, persistent.

I busied myself cutting back calla lillies, cleaning up last autumn's plantings from the pots nestled on our patio.  All the while, the fountain's music in the background.  The music varies from fountain to fountain.  There are great fountains, like Trevi Fountain in Rome where we tossed coins over our shoulder.  But the ones that are most special are those tucked away, hidden in a garden...waiting to be discovered.  We stayed at a Bed and Breakfast called The Bungalows in Los Cabos.  There were a myriad of fountains strewn throughout the grounds.  The sound of each varied greatly.  Some were quietly dripping over the edge of the bowl, while others danced loudly as it splashed merrily away.  It was pure delight to listen to each.

My day continued until late in the afternoon, the sun beginning to dip; the air cooled and my bedraggled pots now freshened with colorful spring blooms.  Still, my fountain gurgled and babbled late into the evening.  My question is:  what type of a fountain am I?  What does the song of my life sound like?

Enjoying Fountain Days ~ Missy


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