I pulled in the grocery store lot, and there it was.
An employee, garden hose in hand, was giving a drink of water to some potted flowers in bloom - a burst of colors on this day that had finally produced some sun and some warmth.
With the car window down and a sweater abandoned earlier in the day, it was actually beginning to feel like spring, maybe even remotely like summer.
How can you not when the sun is shining and flowers are ready to do their thing, especially after winter has hung around way too long?
The potted flower sighting was just one occasion on this particular day that gave me a reason to smile.
Another one was a comment directed my way, one that I think was supposed to be a compliment, depending on the interpretation, I guess, which explains why I smiled.
A fellow mentioned to me that his daughter was interested in writing and that he had suggested she maybe should check out my columns, which he apparently had pointed out to her as an example of the creative process - in essence, the ability to write about nothing but still make it interesting.
How about that for some praise and encouragement?
The columnist who writes well about nothing.
I told him that I guess my column is like that episode of the "Seinfeld" TV series - the one about nothing.
Ironic how nothing can be something interesting.
I got another smile on this day of flower sightings and "flattery" when I looked no further than my two feet.
There were my bare toes in all their splendor.
Hello down there.
I was wearing sandals outdoors for the first time in many, many months.
And that makes Janice and her tootsies very happy campers this time of the year.
I am delighted to retire my boots and wooly knee highs for some slip-ons and flip-flops, unless, of course, I've got a date with a horse named Coffee.
Then slip-ons and flip-flops are not so smile-worthy.
But what brings a guaranteed smile to my face on any given day is the sight of something soft and rectangular.
It's Mr. Pillow waiting to make a connection with yours truly.
It's sleepy-night-night time.
Time to dream about future flowers, flattery and flip-flops.
(Kiaski, a resident of Steubenville, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)