Most blog entries I write are written at the computer, in the blog window, with no paper-and-pen-written version as a base. Today, though, it's in the 80s or 90s outside on a partly-cloudy, mildly-breezy, perfect, beautiful day. There's no way I could sit inside to blog when I *do* have paper and pen with which I can write my entries, to be typed up and added in due course. So I'm sitting at the metal picnic table on one section of an on-campus lawn, right by a mid-sized tree that's only beginning to come back to life. Come summer or fall, this tree will be covered in leaves and will almost look like a big, green cloud. For now, though, it's still mostly bare with just a few spots of green on each of the twisting branches and twigs. There's a bird sitting somewhere in it that I can't see despite the general nekidness of this tree. I know the bird is there, though, because I can hear it calling every few moments in sharp, high tones of joy and playfulness.

I'm sitting so that the sunbeams fall down on the right side of my back, hitting my face and right arm as well. I didn't really do this intentionally, but it may help to even out the driver's tan I've started to get from recent warm drives with the windows down. My hair, up in a poneytail except for the two small braids in front, is dancing around my neck with the breeze. I can see the shadow of the top strands of hair nearly standing straight up, reaching towards the sky.

It is so very easy to praise God on days like this, when the gentle breeze floats flowery aromas my way and the warm sun reminds me that outside is a good place to be.