I feel like a kid on summer
vacation break, watching helplessly as time melts like a popsicle. Every day, the night owns the woods around our house a bit longer, bare minutes by the clock but it will add up to autumn soon. And I’m not ready. I wanted to do things, whatever they were, before tumbling towards years’ end. England was wonderful again in late spring, but the embers of that trip have cooled—I have to work the bellows steadily to rouse a flame. Perhaps Alaska, a place I’ve never been, will be fresh wood on the fire.
If we are facing in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking. —Buddhist proverb