Sitting on our wharf in the evening fishing with my husband, listening to the thrushes sing across the mirror-calm lake.

Trading songs, and one guitar, back and forth on the deck steps with a friend I'd had a stupid falling-out with, after a complete reconciliation.

Standing in sunshine on the odd little hill in a Cape Breton friends' field, looking across at the darkened Highlands, where a thunderstorm was brewing. Nearer, Goldenrod was glowing and four happy dogs were racing through the hay. I felt transfigured.

Crossing a canal bridge on my way back to old Haarlem, the Grote Kerk looming ahead. I had just gotten my student visa approved for a year, had been accepted by a wonderful school, had confirmed a place to live. I felt lifted, as close to a religious experience as I can claim, I was that full of pure happiness, completely carefree.