Good morning! I’m sorry I missed you yesterday — I was up the coast, hanging out with sea lions and redwoods, with no internet connection. It was bliss, all that sound and space: not just outside, but inside, too, how it opens and grows when you lift off the pressure a little bit.
I want to tell you about the couple of monarch butterflies, about how abalone shells fragment and turn sand iridescent, about seals making a striated rock look more beautiful (thanks, Alice Walker), about hearing sea lion talk from the bedroom, about Halloween shooting stars just when you ask for them, about a red-tailed hawk pushing through the air just when you’re walking through a once cow-pasture to the water, next to the lighthouse compound that you decided not to pay $14 to get into. About the brown-and-black fuzzy caterpillars, about a hot tub in a secluded spot on the deck, about an anniversary picnic at the living room table.
I want to tell you all about it, more, and today I’m diving back into the very-busy that this weekend was a break from. Today, this week, I’m back to trading writing time for sleep, or, as was the case this morning, vice versa.