We are a couple of hours into the new season. Each of us woke this morning and thought: “We need a fire.” Friends were just here for the tail of summer, but each fall there is a morning when the cool damp weights our chest and abruptly makes us want a fire in the wood stove. It’s a day not to worry, but to hold moments before us, remember trust, and revel in the reliability of the world. Today was that day.
Through June, July, and August, we missed our early morning walks, but this week, we’re back.
I meant to write about distance today—how far, how fast, where we arrived. Instead, mostly what we found.
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Roses, choosing a home, The Flight of the Mind, and walking, in no particular order.
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Gary says the best part of the 4th of July was when it was over. I’d argue that the best part was at 5:30 yesterday morning during our walk. When we got home, we opened up the house—every window and skylight. Then, in early afternoon, when people started beach fires, we shut everything back up to avoid the smoke. If we’d had company, we likely would have gone out and built a small fire on the beach. Instead we watched two episodes of a British procedural, and ignored the booms as much as possible.
Good news: The booming didn’t start until dusk instead of trailing out across the entire weekend. The bad news: The explosions were too close and didn’t end until well after ten last night. Even the echo was horrific.
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In the morning on tide-swept sand, we recognize footprints of local humans we can name and coyote, raccoons, deer, and various birds we cannot name.
Yesterday morning we walked north nearly to Arcadia Beach. This morning we walked from the north to Cape Falcon. Continue reading
IMPERFECT PATIENCE 