A quiet morning here, made possible by cloudy skies and sleepy parakeets. (It helps that I haven’t uncovered their cage yet, poor things.)

A cold has kept me inside for days, and I’m feeling the psychic effects of it. Time for an armchair amble.

I walk out the door, slip between the houses across the street and find a familiar path. It’s almost overgrown now but I pick my way along until I come to the road. There I find the familiar landmarks: the horses and the stream, the big house on the hill, the pasture that (if viewed from the right angle) almost seems rural.

Air fills my lungs and my stride lengthens. I’m in the groove now, moving quickly in the chill. How good it feels to be alive and in the world. When I’m in it I often don’t appreciate it. But now that I’m not … well, it’s good to have a reminder.