On some of the drier morning walks, I drop my walking sticks and lie down, my spine adjusting to the exposed roots hiding beneath last year’s leaves.

I’m making good on my promise to forget where my phone is and wander off toward the woods.

One quick trip to the truck to load up this week’s meager two-bag trash deposit for the bin at the end of the driveway and it’s back inside, boots off and under the blanket on the couch.

I have no idea what my life will be like on the next New Year’s Eve.

I will leave this earth with a stack of books unread, mysteries unsolved. Better get ok with that.

We’re here for the Duration, however long that lasts and however many sunrises that grants us.

I’ll hang my cares on one of those many-fingered sycamores and let the north wind take them where he will.

Every season requires an adjustment period and I’m up for it, truly.

I’m walking into the middle of movies here, with a string of buses stopping to drop off and pick up more cast members.

I’m holding onto these last weeks of summer with both hands.

On occasion I’ll get to travel around the state, meeting with colleagues and offering my support for their hard work in challenging times.

We all need reminders of power and grace.

He saw the future in a leftover chunk of wood and knew that a handful of drywall screws would do in a pinch.

Images of Italians singing to each other across balconies still hang in the ether of my memories.

If you’re gonna eat local, dream big and put up with a little discomfort. It’s worth it.

We’re neither thrill-seekers nor shrinking violets; we just receive what’s put down in front of us and give our creativity a thorough workout.

My hunger is never satisfied but I don’t feel greedy. Maybe someday I’ll figure out how that works.

The roaring wind pushed through us all without apology.

Whatever my parents talked about on their way home, I’m certain it was wreathed in smiles.

Sit wherever you’re most comfortable and fall into it all with anticipation and gratitude.