Not unlikely Julie Andrews, I also have a list of my favorite things. The list is a work in progress and I hope I never stop finding new things that make me happy.
A freshly made bed.
Salt water.
Noons during summertime in Greece, with the shutters half closed, the curtain dancing with the wind, and the sound of cicadas.
Cafes that have all-day breakfast.
New books.
Old books.
Street art.
Food markets.
Handmade gifts.
The warmth of an animal.
A baby's smell.
A baby's hand wrapped around my finger, holding tight.
Big, wide windows.
Big, old trees.
A slice of sourdough bread with butter and nutella.
A slice of sourdough bread with olive oil, oregano, and grated tomato.
Paws.
Open horizon, for always putting our problems in perspective.
Tanned skin. The kind of tan you get after you have read at least half a dozen books under the sun.
Wooden floors.
Wooden houses.
Driving with the windows down and the wind on your face.
Naps.
Tree leaves on the ground.
Open-air cinemas.
Hammocks.
Street corn in Mexico.
The sound of a typewriter.
Frosting.
Pretty dresses.
Loose summer pants.
Messy hair.
Stripes.
Making lists.
Grapes in early August.
Figs in late August.
Summer rain.
Beginnings.
Sleeping under the stars.
Waking up under the sky.
Polaroids.
Pineapple for breakfast.
Watermelon and feta for dinner.
Walking in the sand.
Being underwater.
Leather vintage suitcases.
Pasta.
Red velvet cake.
Braided hair.
Sleeping with the windows open.
Night sailing.
Deep, meaningful, passionate conversations.
Hammocks.
Rope door curtains.
Rocking chairs.
Whales.
Nutcracker soldiers.
Vintage globes.
Old maps.
Ella.