How do you know it’s going to be a great day? People, I will tell you how.
You wake up in your very comfortable (nice new from Ikea) bed in your sunny bedroom in the house you grew up in, in Queensborough, Ont. Outside it is perfectly quiet except for the sound of birdsong and cicadas (or, as my mum calls them, heat bugs; it is a pleasantly warm, sunny day). You head downstairs to find that your husband is not around; clearly he has bombed into town (Madoc) to do errands. But since he is the best husband in the world he has left behind a freshly made pot of Tim Horton’s coffee, so you’re already all set.
And then your husband pulls into the driveway. And it turns out that not only has he been to Madoc; he’s gone further south on Highway 62, to the Amish farmers’ market at the hamlet of Ivanhoe, where he’s bought freshly picked sweet corn and green beans for that evening’s supper. And not only that! He’s also headed still farther afield, down the side road that leads to the home-baking stand of one of the Amish families. Where they make honey-dipped doughnuts the likes of which you haven’t had since you were a little kid and the bakery in tiny Minden, Ont. (the nearest town to your family’s ancestral home/farm in Haliburton County, where your childhood Julys were spent) used to make them on Saturday mornings and the whole village would have that heavenly smell as a result.
And your husband has brought a dozen of those doughnuts home. And they are STILL WARM. So you can have them with your coffee. And (I believe I have mentioned this, but it bears repeating) it is a beautiful sunny day.
And you are at the Manse in Queensborough. And the day’s adventures are still in front of you.
And that is how you know it is going to be a wonderful day.