Gray morning, overcast moody looking skies appear as dawn becomes day. No colorful sunrise this morning. I’m not fussing over it, just noticing.
[No AI is used in writing or editing this blog. This is human content for human readers.]
I got an early start, which suits me. I’ve got this trail alone again this morning. Bonus. It is a Sunday, and a good day to relax and do something pleasant and likely to “recharge my batteries”. Yesterday’s time in the studio was lovely. I’ll likely paint more today, while my Traveling Partner works.
My steps and my thoughts carry me to a favorite spot to sit and reflect. I stop awhile, surprised that there are no fishermen here yet.
Weird morning. My mind wanders. I think about my mortality without any particular anxiety, just curious what lies beyond. Nothing? Something? I guess I’ll know when I get there. The clock is ticking. I think about my Dear Friend, my mother, my grandmother…in one case I’m very certain she was ready; we spoke about it. I dislike the idea of dying unexpectedly and having no opportunity to prepare and to “wrap up my affairs”. What choice do any of us really have about the circumstances of our end? Maybe some choice, we can avoid accelerating our demise by limiting our foolishness… but that isn’t much personal control over such a final moment.
…Don’t mind me, the gray morning has infiltrated my musings, that’s all.
I’m disinclined to continue down the rabbit hole of mortality and my thoughts move on. Tomorrow, work. Today, housekeeping, and more painting, and probably a nap. 😆
The surface of the river is so smooth and calm this morning. It means little; that river is still flowing along (at something like 5400 cfs). It’s still a river. A fisherman shows up, and walks past me, and on down to the bank, tossing me a gruff “good morning” as he passes. I return the greeting, then get to my feet. Time to move along.
… Time to begin again…
Evening Light 