I wonder at the stunning images that are painted in each moment as the sun rises in the valley. Standing for just a few moments in the breaking dawning of this day. The brush of the sun … the shadows in grand shift. The light breeze of morning. Now, a bit later, the sun begins to come in through the office window. It has risen over the hill and kisses the cabinets behind me. The light in the office shifts.
The pile of notes, trinkets, letters, contracts… all the parts of daily conduct… litter the upper part of the desk. It is a goal of christmastide to file or toss, recycle and find proper place… after the shifting light stops holding my attention.
Perhaps some practice of a tune will find its way into the mix of putter that is a lovely Sunday morning. That putter practice of having a tune work itself out.
Perhaps this afternoon will yield a nap. The plan that was for this afternoon found itself executed yesterday evening. So… there is much room for an alternative set of putter plans.
Years ago, a younger group of crew learned to putter on a walking trip into a downtown where none of us live anymore. It has informed so many gatherings since. The putter practice. That moment of seeing in clarity and then holding that seeing in a putter plan.
Just up the road. With thanks… puttering, just up the road.
