Sunday, March 21, 2010

NPR Tote in a Wicker Basket

Recently, I have been thinking about all of the things I wish I could do. For example, I want to knit myself a mustard-colored toboggan, play Iron and Wine songs on guitar, make tea from herbs in my garden, start a bee hive to collect honey, and pick flowers to create a fresh bouquet every single day. I'll admit, my list seems a little far-reaching, but I'm not putting a time limit to it. Hopefully, I can eventually do all of these things, but in the meantime, this is what I'm doing...

This weekend was fantastic-- in fact, ideal-- for me. After an adrenaline-filled high ropes course with my roommate Dana, my R.A. Aniekan, and a few other kids from my hall, hunger came beckoning. Satisfied with a good ole Jimmy Johns tuna sandwich and some Sunchips, Dana and I sat in front of our seemingly little television fully prepared for a Harry Potter movie marathon. (For those who know me even slightly, this isn't uncommon with either the movies or the books). A popcorn bag, an entire bag of Sunchips, a few creamy hot and cold drinks, and several not-so-sober visitors later, we had watched a measly three of the six movies. Still, just hanging out with Dana (oh and I can't leave out the biggest Harry Potter fan I've ever met, Stephen) kept me quite entertained and exceptionally happy.

The next morning brought the sound of the few remaining songbirds in the U.S. The warm spring sun chased away any clouds in sight, leaving only the azure tint of the sky. Despite my inclinations to despise running, my legs hankered for a some quick movement. I jumped out of my bunk bed as if I were four again, jumping from my Lion King-themed bunk bed. Stuffing an earbud into each ear, I ran for the Athens Greenway only slightly self-conscious of my awkward leg movements. The perfumes of Spring dominated the pungent, sewage smell of blooming Dogwoods like someone finally smeared all of the Coco Channel-drenched old women with a bit of honeysuckle. 

Once back from my hour long run/walk, I remained in my bedroom only long enough to prepare a picnic and collect some homework. I organized everything obsessive-compulsively in my new NPR food bag and swung it into the wicker basket attached at the front of my hunter green bike. I, somewhat cautiously due to the increasingly flat front tire of my bike, rode to a park by the Oconee River. I rested my bike up against a tree and set up the brown, wool blanket normally fashioned at the end of my bed right under the tree's bare branches. The small aromatic field I found was covered in the tiniest of purple flowers which made me feel like calling all of the animals like a Disney princess.
Now, the best part of this little excursion was my packed picnic. I peeked into my NPR bag and pulled out a container filled with my organic romaine and baby spinach salad dressed with toasted almonds, feta cheese, and balsamic vinaigrette. And to compliment the salad I brewed a thermos of looseleaf Jasmine iced tea with British-styled cream and sugar. Once I finished, I started into a book and read for almost two hours just giving the sun a little opportunity to find my skin.

These insignificant details offer me the types of days I enjoy most: days when I actually have time to just read out in the sun with homemade, organic foods and the birds singing amongst spring blossoms. These are the days that I feel closest to nature, which has become one of my deepest desires.