Sitting on the porch on a warm spring day:
A breeze carrying the scent of freshly turned earth from the next block.
Noticing your dog, who has a notorious dislike of winged creatures of all kinds in her territory, very pointedly ignoring the pair of tweeters that have set up house in a mud daub nest under the eaves of the porch.
Folks waving as they drive by, or hollering out the window asking "How's your folks?"
Two young boys passing by, meandering and laughing, one of them popping wheelies. In his wheelchair. As his friend pushes from behind, running as hard as he can.
I love living in a small town.