Editor’s note: The IJ is reprinting some of the late Beth Ashley’s columns. This is from 2015.

Alice Munro has written a book called “Dear Life,” as in “hold on for dear life.”

There are a few things I really hold on to. My husband, of course. My marvelous kids. But more than those big ones, there are the day-to-day happenings that make life delightful — like grapefruit every morning (and serrated spoons to eat it with). The morning newspapers, often full of gruesome news but also rife with pleasures: political news, stories about local people, upbeat funnies and crossword puzzles. I do crosswords by the hour. My husband often makes breakfast, and when he does, he sprinkles paprika on the eggs and adds a sprig of parsley to the plate. Behold — beauty at 7:30 a.m.

The days needn’t be spectacular, yet each contains reliable joys. Both Rowland and I spend time each morning at our computers, exchanging notes with people we care about. We make dates with friends, a real pick-me-upper.

Rowland does errands, and I go to the gym. I don’t like going to the gym, but my ego is at peace because I’ve done what I’m supposed to do.

Likewise, I put in a short stretch of time each day putting away the junk that has accumulated on the dining room table. That’s done. Hooray for me.

By noontime, more junk has accumulated — the mail has come, and we sift through the huge mass of catalogs hoping for signs of human communication, and yes, there is usually one; we share it and both get a lift. Even an unrewarding stack of mail has its pluses — we have moments of happy expectation every day.

At lunchtime, we indulge ourselves with whatever we really like to eat. Rowland loves PB&J on toast; I may have a dish of applesauce or a fistful of cheese sticks. Oh, thank you, dear Safeway and Trader Joe’s for supplying so many good choices. Rowland and I love to eat, and he, for the most part, is the architect of our meals. We plan together, we shop together and we look forward to each mealtime as it comes.

After lunch, I often traipse off to bed, smiling as I do so, a book under my arm or a magazine. My favorite magazines at the moment are the New Yorker and the Week. I don’t nap for long, but what a great feeling knowing that I can whenever I choose to. Something to read. Quiet time. What’s not to like?

I am talking here about ordinary days — of course we often are busy, meeting friends at a restaurant, going to meetings, hearing a lecture or the symphony, or driving to the city for ballet. But on a typical day, we putter around the house until around 5 p.m., then settle in the living room with a cocktail or book. We watch Bill O’Reilly because I enjoy getting my back up, and then Rachel Maddow if she isn’t talking so fast. (Then, I can’t understand her.)

At 7 p.m., we tune into my favorites, “Jeopardy!” and “Wheel of Fortune,” where I like to think I’m almost as smart as the contestants. Rowland often solves the questions before I do. Matching wits with the players is an ego-builder (though sometimes, I confess, they leave me in the dust).

A good football game or a tennis or golf tournament often substitutes for “Jeopardy!” or “Wheel of Fortune.” We love watching a good competition; I love excellence in any sport.

Sometimes we even leave home in favor of a movie — how lucky we are to spend time in a dark theater, watching Hollywood artistry and getting a glimpse into another world. “Big Eyes” was terrific. “The Imitation Game,” fascinating. “Wild,” kind of boring to be honest.

If we’re home, we eat dinner in front of the TV. Sometimes as the evening wears on, we watch old movies (channel 501) or read; there’s always something wonderful to read. This week, Rowland picked the MIT magazine, and I chose a book about contemporary Russia: David Greene’s “Midnight in Siberia.”

Around 10 or 11 p.m., we wrap it up. We carry our reading off to bed and lie together until we get sleepy.

“I love being with you,” I tell him.

“Me too,” he’ll reply before turning out the light.

We have had another great day. It’s a really dear life.