Every morning I have a routine: I get up, make coffee, feed the cats, feed the dog, and then Chalupa and I go for a walk so that he can do his business and I can see what is going on in the yard. I pull a few weeds, make some mental notes. But I always stand on this same bank and watch the river flow by. It is never the same. Higher or lower, brown after a storm, a perfect mirror some mornings, others choppy because the wind is up. It renews my spirit. Then we walk back to the house, I pull a few more weeds, do a bit of pruning, on and on. With a large yard it never stops. But the river flows by completely unaware of me, or anything that is going on. After all it is the river, it is busy doing what the river does, reminding me that I am just a small part of what is going on.
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| Between storms, January 18, 2016 |
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| Windy, January 19, 2016 |
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| Foggy, January 20, 2016 |
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| The water is this high, The bush is reflected in the water and I am standing on the bank. January 20, 2016 |
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