A part of me is feeling wistful for summer. Missing the longer days and the burgeoning green life. Wishing for long days on the trail, in motion for miles and miles. Ears full of thrush and warbler song, eyes full of flowers. And don’t forget bugs…
Well, the truth is that it’s almost December. These mountains look pretty good with snow on them. And the brightness of the light is a gift after rain. Work is humdrum, mundane, close to the road. So it’s my quest to keep the sense of wonder alive, to look more closely for the wild. To find the moment that shines in my mind long after I’ve come home in the dark.
One thought on “Crisp”
A festival of one light… as illumiinating as a worldful.