Good morning!
It’s Sunday. The old dirt road has already iced over, forcing us to equip our shoes with cleats that make the most satisfying crunch crunch crunch when we walk. The cleats also give us a reassuring sense that our feet are firmly connected to the ground and less likely to slip out from under us.
We’ve almost made it to The Hill That Requires a Commitment—and I’ve decided that we don’t have that particular commitment today. Besides, we have some water that deserves our attention.
Having completed its saunter through the swamp, the water then braved the culvert under the road and successfully made a rather awkward sharp left turn. Now, we’re watching it savor its last freshwater moments before it cascades down the hill and becomes one with the bay.
“Nothing is permanent in all the world.
All things are fluent; every image forms,
Wandering through change.”—Ovid, Metamorphoses
Onwards,
Clara
