Last evening my running tribe came together for yet another solstice trip to the top of Mt. Pisgah, one of the sacred natural areas near Eugene. We were uproarious, then became reverent as darkness inundated the shortest day of the year. Back at the pickup, I realized that my keys had not made the descent. No immediate worries. There was a spare wired into the frame for these occasions.
Lichen a galaxy, gray sky a tabby cat, keys lost, out of balance at the turning of dark to light, finding keys in the calm stillness.....thank you for this gift. (And yes--I lost my car key when running up a hill in Missoula a few years back in winter with friends--and never did find the key, and had to run five extra miles to get home for the spare--back when I was fitter!).
Sparrows lumbering? This I gotta see. You really nailed the feeling of solitude on Mt. Pisgah.
Lichen a galaxy, gray sky a tabby cat, keys lost, out of balance at the turning of dark to light, finding keys in the calm stillness.....thank you for this gift. (And yes--I lost my car key when running up a hill in Missoula a few years back in winter with friends--and never did find the key, and had to run five extra miles to get home for the spare--back when I was fitter!).
Really good, Tom. Sometimes I go by Grandmutter, so I get it. Thanks for the beauty amid winter.