JOY ALONG THE WAY: PRINCESS OF QUITE-A-LOT FOR MORE THAN A DAY

Mary Engelbreit's calendar page for April is a delightful picture of a young girl seated in a chair that resembles a throne. Her slippered feet are on a soft footstool. An ice cream cone is in her hand. A book is in her lap. The picture is titled "Princess of Quiet-a-Lot." It is a takeoff, I'm sure, of Princess-of-Camelot."

I think we all could be princes or princesses of Quite-a-Lot if we stopped to take inventory of our possessions, by deed or otherwise.

I decided to do that for just one day. First there was the pre-dawn chorus of the robins. Sleepily I stepped out on the front porch to try to determine how many robins were singing. They were still in the trees rather than on the ground scavenging for worms. Listening carefully to judge distance of sound and intervals between, I calculated there were at least five robins in the nearby oaks. Listening from the back porch, I estimated there were at least 10 in the back yard trees. Quite-a-lot of robins. All mine. Yours too if you heard or saw them.

Next was the sunrise. I know just where to stand to see the sun rise above the horizon. At this particular time, it comes up in the fork of a big white oak in the Park. There were separate, puffy clouds above the sun. I counted them. Six pink tinged clouds. Quite-a-Lot.

Later, on my way to inspect a part of my Princess-dom, I passed by five plots of daffodils. Each plot had a hundred or more blooms. Quite-a-Lot.

My destination was a bench at the top of the courthouse steps. Green waves of grass descended, terrace by terrace, to the street below. Along the way there were Bradford pear trees in bloom. Would 500,000 blossoms cover the total? Anyway, Quite-a-Lot.

The river! Ah, the river. I have eyesight deed to it as well, plus all the big and little boats that ride its waters. And being princess, I don't have to run them, oil the engines, keep on the right side of the buoys, miss the bridge piers, deliver the cargo.

Back home by way of the library I go. Although this day I have no books to return nor wish to check out any, I just want to walk up and down the aisles, marveling at all the stored knowledge, stories, poems, plays, etc., etc. And there is access to a little tunnel somewhere in the airways whereby one can snatch a bit of information if, perchance, it isn't already there on the shelves. A marvelous place is a library. I can't easily estimate the number of books, but there are Quite-a-Lot.

Back home, I decide to stroll slowly alongside the hedgerow and count the variety of plants, trees, rabbits, birds and insects I behold. At the count of 35 my concentration is shattered by the ecstatic song of a mockingbird. In my inventory mood, I try to count the number of notes. He goes through the songs of the cardinal, robin, bobwhite and song sparrow in 20 seconds. How many more can it put together? Who knows? Quite-a-Lot.

By nightfall my inventory of blessings and possessions are so astronomical it doesn't compute.

I seek my soft recliner, put my feet on a cushioned footstool. How many muscles need relaxing? Quite-a-lot. What's this in my hand? An ice cream cone? How many calories? Quite-a-Lot. How much time do I spend in the Land of Imagination? Quite-a-Lot.

REJOICE!

~Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime columnist for the Southeast Missourian.