Good question… lol.
Asking me to pick a favorite word is like asking an Irish farmer to pick just one favorite field. Sure, they’ll point to the greenest one, but you can bet they’re thinking about the patch where the turf is drying or the corner where the blackberries grow.
Some words sparkle, like serendipity, which practically skips across the page in its Sunday best. Others feel like a mug of hot tea on a wet day, like home, warm and steady. And then there’s wild. Short, sharp, and untamed, a word that reminds me of winds off the Atlantic, hair in knots, and wellies stuck in the muck.
Of course, I also have a soft spot for the sly, mischievous words, the kind you drop into a sentence and watch people tilt their heads like a collie that’s just heard the dinner whistle. Those are good fun.
But if I’m honest, maybe my favorite word changes by the day. Sometimes it’s freedom, sometimes tea, and sometimes it’s the simple joy of a nap. Words are like turf stacks; each one has its own place and purpose, and together they keep the fire burning.
So no, I can’t pick just one. My favorite word is whichever one makes me smile, sets me free, or sneaks a little mischief into the mix. Preferably over a cuppa, with muddy boots at the door.
Mae🧡
UNDER THE WILL... OVER THE DRAMA... 
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