I was out for a walk in the chill of yesterday's morning, where the leaves were dancing on their way to the ground and the clouds were in a bluster. I was thinking about what we talked about the day before, how rich we really are. I thought: my boots make me rich, the way I don't feel the ground through my feet. My cold fingers make me rich when they remind me of the warmth I can go home to. I'm rich with the time to walk my dog and not work constantly, just to survive. I'm rich because I don't have to pick pop cans out of recycling bins on garbage days, but I can smile at the old man as I walk by. I'm rich because the wind can remind me of all the less fortunate faces the air has touched, my face is a luxurious one. I'm rich with happiness when I can see Mt. Baker's snowy boots sticking out from under the clouds. I'm blessed with the things I do have and am so much better off than most of the world, I remember. I won't forget.
A few things have happened in the last week, nothing monumental, but that too is a good thing.
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| Chanterelles on Toast |
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My dog ate all these cookies
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| Quick Hike To Cascade Falls |
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