Blessings

“I am struck by how available everything is that is wonderful if you abandon the notion that you have to live on the edge of it,” David said as we sat on the porch on Friday night, watching the few clouds in the sky take on the pinks and mauves of the lowering light.  We were talking about all the places we love to be — on the water, in the woods, on a mountain top.

“I’m really pleased that these boots were made in Italy and not China,” he went on, looking at the boots he finally decided on, after weeks of boot research and boot trying-on in preparation for our walk across England.

“Is it a blessing or a curse that everything I experience is translated into language to be written down?” I asked.  “It’s a blessing,” David said.  And so it is, and here I am, writing it down.

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