I have been getting a lot of e-mails from the President lately asking for my help. No, seriously, will you make a phone call or two, will you organize local meetings on the health care agenda, could you, would you just help in any way?

I just got to be honest here. If Barack Obama is now asking for help at my level that man is in a world of trouble. It’s a little scary to say the least.

I haven’t responded mainly because I’m not sure I can help. All I know is what I know and I’m dogmatic about that and very opinionated about most everything else.

He REALLY doesn’t want my help. Really he doesn’t.

But to be fair if he wants to fly me to D.C. and put me up for a night or two in that big ol’ White House and let me sit in on some of his high-powered meetings, I’ll offer up an honest and straightforward viewpoint from down here at the bottom of the barrel. That’s fair, right?

But who listens to regular folks? Nobody, that’s who. But because he asked me, almost begged me, I’ll be willing to help on his dime.

Only thing is we gotta make it quick because I expect to start cutting grass any minute and then I’ll be busy until late fall. By then I suppose we could all have gone to hell in the proverbial handbasket.

But let’s talk about nicer things. Today was the day. The day I have been whining about, writing about and longing for for months now.

The perfect day. I was up and outside early and I clipped and raked and burned and looked skyward as Red-tailed Hawks called for each other soaring high as they rose on the updrafts. I watched bluebird couples build new nests to await this season’s offspring. I saw fair clouds stipple the heavens with what looked like snow you sprayed from a can at Christmas. The air was thick with the smell of burning leaves and all of Plum Point appeared to be sending smoke signals to the outer communities.

I watched the leaves burn and the fire dance in the wind, mesmerized by the life it seemed to take on with each new gust. I tried to read at times but could not keep my eyes on the pages.

I worked until I could barely stand and my back and my hands ached with what I know is just another reminder of my age and abilities or lack thereof.

I didn’t care; I don’t care, because today was the day.  Not another place on earth could have been as beautiful and extraordinary as this day. It didn’t matter that not one bloom was in sight or a green leaf on any tree. This day I’ve yearned for has lived up to my expectations and then some. I have been renewed and re-energized.

You get the picture.

(Award-winning columnist Sherry Hopkins can be contacted at swhcsc@wildblue.net)