Today is the day! I am officially 50 years old. Yesterday, I was 49. Today I’m 50. Feels good so far! On birthdays, we often quote four-year-old Lucy.
“What’s today?”
“My birthday!”
I am pleased to say that I have completed my series of fifty delights today. My abundant notes on this topic already give me gratitude — so many things that delight me in my life! The work of joy has already been done. I’ve adored hearing from so many of you about your own delights. Thank you for celebrating with me! Send along a delight anytime you like.
Let’s begin this collection with a series on reading and writing. As always, more could be added to this partial list!
Reading and Writing Delights
Madeleine L’Engle’s Austin family chronicles. Madeleine L’Engle got me through the most emotionally challenging periods of my childhood, making space for all of the angst and grief that I hadn’t yet found words for. This particular series helped to expand my inner world as a teenager, and I re-read all of these books when I was pregnant with Lucy, hoping to glean some tips on parenthood. I’ve read them aloud to both of our daughters, and they always deliver connection and wonder in the best way.
Drawing my journaling circle. I’ve written before about my nightly journaling habit, drawing a circle to represent a 24-hour clock and annotating the day around the edge of the page. The practice has sustained me over decades, and I find a little moment of delight every night when I draw that circle. When I began the practice, I traced the circle from a blue plastic cup that was just the right size. Jon noticed and offered to create a template for me, cutting a perfectly-sized circle out of a piece of plastic. It hangs from a ribbon on my journal and I use it every night!
Here is a video of Kirk keeping me company one night as I journaled.
Reading aloud. This practice is baked into the bones of our family. Jon and I used to read aloud to each other on long car trips long before we had children. When babies arrived, we read little board books to them, then bigger books, and bigger … and we just kept it up. I’m lucky that the girls still grant me permission to read to them, often over breakfast or when we’re having a snack. Is there any better way to start the day?
Here is a classic video of two-year-old Rosie reading her first book aloud.
“Oooh, Mama!”Reading in companionship. Silent reading while gathered together brings its own kind of delight. In the early days of our marriage, Jon and I scheduled “quiet nights” where we would intentionally stay at home and read together. We’re finding more opportunities like this as the girls grow older. And of course, our favorite family time for companionable reading is our annual Jólabókaflóðið celebration — every December 23 at the Boyd house.
A large, empty table for writing. It’s a fact of life right now that we have a fair amount of clutter in our home. I take full responsibility for my part, and I do believe things will improve. But the state of things gives me a special appreciation for great swaths of space, especially when I’m sitting down to write something. The kitchen table often serves this purpose admirably, but there’s a special delight in finding an expanse of table — like this one at the Art Institute members lounge. Delight!
Listening to David Whyte reading aloud. I was made conscious of the work of this poet-philosopher through Krista Tippett’s interview with him several years ago. David Whyte’s writings bring a depth and beauty to everyday experiences, and I am grateful for the richness his work has added to my life. A special delight can be found in listening to his own recitations of his poems. He often repeats a line for emphasis in a way that helps me to hear it better or differently. Here he is reading “Working Together.”
The writings of Roald Dahl. Perhaps this should be placed closer to the “reading aloud” delight, for that is where we enjoyed his work the most. I loved Roald Dahl as a child and his writing continues to bring joy to our own kids. I had never read The Witches until I read it with our girls — what a romp! In 2018, we visited the Roald Dahl museum in Great Missenden on a trip to England, observing the actual chair he sat in and pondering his habit of eating an entire Cadbury chocolate bar during a writing session and adding the foil wrapper to a dense sphere of collected wrappers. What a curious fellow!
Delights of the Home
A kitty snuggle. Anyone with cats knows how lucky one feels when a feline hops up and curls up on your lap, settling in for a purrful rest. We call this “a kitty problem,” for one can become trapped by the cat — but it seems unthinkable to stand up and reject this precious gift of snuggleship.
The smell of hyacinths. Although I am no gardener, I do adore the smell of hyacinths. Many years ago, we planted hyacinth bulbs in our front yard — they still bloom every year, and I still get down on the ground to smell them. Sometimes I’ll bring a hyacinth plant into the home, aware that I will need to defend it against the curious cats. And strangely, I sometimes get a whiff of hyacinth while biting into a cherry tomato. Does this happen to anyone else?
Back to bed in the night. In a reversal of the well-known “other side of the pillow” delight (which I affirm), I would like to propose that there is delight in getting out of bed in the middle of the night — to feed a cat, to tend a child, to visit the W.C. — then returning to the warm bedclothes and burrowing in for renewed warmth. All bets are off if your mind starts racing at this point (I know that detour all too well), but if one can remain in a restful, relaxed state, the slipstream back into sleep is delicious.
A fire in a fireplace. A traditional delight, but one no less worthy. The wood-burning fireplace featured strongly in our reasoning to buy our home back in 2002, pulling us out of a newlywed apartment that we hadn’t quite outgrown yet. The crackle, the scent of smoke, the warm glow, the sense of contained danger — so many delights for those harsh and chilly months!
The kitties love a roaring fire, especially when Jon reads Dickens aloud to us all.
When Jon makes me laugh so hard that I cry. Jon Boyd is funnier than you might think, and on occasion, his wit strikes my funny bone to the point where I collapse in a puddle of laughter. We have written of a classic moment involving palak paneer, but there have been many more undocumented instances. That guy is a laff riot!
Invented holidays and non-traditional traditions. We Boyds have cultivated a rich tapestry of alternative celebrations in our family. We make crêpes every Bastille Day, we toast Bilbo and Frodo’s Birthday on September 22, we eat tomato soup and roast beef and blueberry pie on Willy Wonka Day (February 1), we watch The Wizard of Oz and Young Frankenstein every October. We celebrate “unbirthdays” (some call them half-birthdays) in our family and we listen to the A Year with Frog & Toad soundtrack while carving jack-o’-lanterns. Sometimes we need to practice flexibility, but there’s a high level of commitment — and each of these instances brings great delight.
An electric blanket. For many years (before my internal thermostat began to go haywire), I spent every winter feeling a constant, low-grade level of chill. On a whim, I bought an electric blanket and marveled at the way my whole body relaxed once I got just a bit warmer. These days, I do not need the electric blanket as desperately as I once did, but I still appreciate its powers — especially while reading, and especially if my feet are cold. (If you’re in the market, I’ve had success with these.)
The Chicago skyline. As a lifelong Chicagoan, I have great affection for the skyline — and it’s especially keen after being away on a trip. I recall driving home from New Orleans with a friend in my early twenties and marveling at the skyline as we approached the city. These days, we have a pretty good view of it from a local parking structure, but there is nothing like catching a glimpse of the towering architecture after driving through farmland for a few hours.
The smell of our house. To be clear, our house does not always smell incredible. Like everyone else, we have our fair share of trash and soggy shoes and stale cooking odors. But I love heading out for a walk, then noticing the fragrance upon my return. Often, I come home to find that our house smells like coffee or toast or a sweetly-scented candle. Sometimes I have to work hard to overcome a smell, like the time a few weeks ago when the lingering remnants of homemade onion soup drove me to bake a gingerbread cake. This fall, I marveled at the glorious aroma of a recently-baked a cinnamon-streusel-topped coffeecake. I had been out for a walk that morning, praying Psalm 23, and I thought, “This is what the house of the Lord smells like.” May it be so!
The Kitchen Series
Moominmamma mug. Jon’s mom gave me this mug for Christmas and it delights me daily. I love a smallish coffee mug, and this one is the perfect size. The Moomin books are another delight in our family (do you know them?), and I love the way this one depicts Moominmamma drinking tea in her rocking chair. It delights me every morning!
Shortbread cookies. Many years ago, I discovered my great delight in shortbread through Regan Daley’s Butter Toffee Crunch Shortbread recipe from In the Sweet Kitchen. Since then, we’ve established this as an annual Christmas cookie and my love for shortbread has only expanded. I appreciate Melissa Clark’s unabashed love for shortbread, and these pink cookies by Molly Wizenberg are perhaps my very favorite cookie of all — shortbread with a cream cheese frosting, lightly scented with kirsch and dyed pink.
I was entranced by this cookie at a café recently, but alas — it needed more salt.
Leaving one last bite. This delight is one that makes dear Jon Boyd a little crazy, but I stand by it. I find delight in noticing my fullness signals toward the end of a meal, then voluntarily choosing to leave one bite left on my plate. Perhaps it is an expression of abundance, or perhaps it is just that I’m finished eating. And it doesn’t always happen (for example, with those pink cookies above), but when it does, I’m grateful for Jon’s long-suffering nature.
Contrasting temperatures. I believe many people appreciate this delight: ice cream on a warm apple crumble, or a hot cup of coffee with a piece of dark chocolate. In food preparation, this is universally appealing, but the concept translates into other joys — a bubbling outdoor hot tub in the snow, or a dip in a cold lake on a hot summer day. Perhaps I should explore the joys of the sauna? But for now, I’ll stand by a scoop of vanilla on my fresh brownie with hot fudge.
Making large quantities of ganache. Speaking of chocolate, is there anything more glorious that heating up two quarts of heavy cream to a simmer, then pouring in two pounds of chopped chocolate and stirring gently until the mixture turns deep brown and glossy? Only on rare occasions do I allow myself to make such quantities of ganache — for fondue, or perhaps frosting, or (one time) for a chili cook-off in which the ganache itself was the “chili” and could be adorned with toppings such as pretzels and marshmallows. But on these rare occasions, it is a delight!
Ganache features in my favorite birthday cake — which I have been making today.
A kitchen table chat. The kitchen is a safe, cozy, and intimate room — my favorite place to invite someone in for a chat over a cup of tea. Even if we keep it simple (perhaps a shortbread cookie might be involved?) and even though the chairs are not the most comfortable ones in the house, the kitchen itself brings an air of intimacy, and conversation flows in this space, the heart of the home.
Tiny spoons and forks. Somehow over the years, we have amassed a collection of small utensils that we use daily. I think it began with child-sized flatware, then expanded into espresso spoons, salt spoons, and tiny enamel-handed forks. One of our favorite practices is to bring out the jar of small spoons and several different pints of ice cream, ending the night with plates full of a half dozen spoons each from our tasting adventures.
The spoon jar.
Candles at breakfast. In the depths of winter, when the morning light is absent or quite low, we brighten the kitchen table with candles. This habit began with Advent candles, but we now cling to this light into the early spring mornings when we can trust that the world will bring light enough in our days. There’s nothing cheerier than a candlelit breakfast — the perfect opportunity to read aloud!
Closing the kitchen at night. By nature, I’m a night owl, and so I’m almost always the last person up and about in our little home. Every night, I set the dishwasher to run, I feed the cats, wipe down the counters and table, and turn out the lights. I love this simple little ritual of closing the kitchen, knowing that it is tidied up and ready for all the activity of the next morning.
Not perfectly tidy, but closed for the night and ready for the morning.
And that’s a wrap! I’m off now to get ready for a birthday celebration — our whole family (Lucy included) is headed to a new-to-us pizza restaurant for dinner. What a great way to kick off my second half-century!
If you missed the previous delights, you can find them here:
Delights 1-3 (plus instructions about sending in your delights)
and 20-50 are in this post!
xoxo,
Ann
Happy Birthday, Ann Boyd!
Happy birthday, Ann. I know I say it every year, but this is my daughter’s birthday, too. That makes 21 February particularly special. Thank you for your delights.