Yesterday’s walk was rainy. This morning it is cold. 35F/1.6C – it may not be freezing cold, quite yet, but it is certainly cold enough that my heavy sweater was a good choice.

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I reached the trailhead at the nature park without really taking note of the drive to get here. I slept poorly last night, awaked at intervals by my Traveling Partner, who was having a difficult night himself. I woke with effort and dragged myself through my morning routine. So far, so good.

It’s a strange chilly autumn morning. There is a moderately dense fog in the low spots of the marsh and adjacent farm fields. The night sky overhead head is clear and starry. In the minutes during which I sat quietly observing the night sky, trying to ascertain whether that bright object that wasn’t there moments ago is a star, a planet, or a satellite, a stranger approaches my car in the darkness and calls to me. “Ma’am, Ma’am? Do you have any water?”

The object in the sky? A plane. The stranger? A potential threat. What the hell is he doing out along the highway, walking, on a near freezing morning before dawn? I’m definitely not getting out of my car. Through the closed and locked door I say “No”, quite firmly. He walks away slowly toward a second car parked here, some distance ahead of me. I hear him ask the driver for water. She asks what the hell he’s doing out on the highway walking at this hour. He laughs a weird wild cackle. To my surprise, the driver gets out of her car and fetches a bottle of water for the stranger, then gets back in her car. The stranger loiters a few minutes trying to make further conversation before eventually walking away, back to the highway.

The strange unsettling interaction changes my plan. I’ll wait for daybreak before I start down the trail this morning. Just seems safer, and after the night I had, I don’t think I should count on luck as a safety plan.

Yesterday was pretty pleasant, generally. I spent considerable time hanging out with my Traveling Partner. Got my laundry mostly done. Spent a little time in my studio. I’m pleased with the new piece.

I’m getting a lot of satisfaction and emotional value out of these shorter interludes in the studio. I am guessing the days of spending many hours at my easel, or painting down on the floor or on some tabletop, are probably over. I can’t easily sustain one single seated position for so long and the arthritis developing in my thumbs is quite another cruel twist of aging. This piece is my largest pastel to date, though, and in that sense it is fully equivalent to having painted four new pieces. I’m okay with that. The hint of gold dust gently brushed into the piece makes me smile when a glint or glimmer catches my eye. It’s enough.

I doze off in the warmth of the car briefly. When I wake the other car is gone. I write a bit. Meditate. I wait for daybreak, that’ll be soon now. Then I’ll begin again.