Walking. In place inaccessible to unbelief.

5:05 am. I peek at the weather app: 27° F, feels like 15° F, wind gusts up to 32 mph.

Camus: “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.”

Hmmmmmm, not feelin’ it.

Everyone in the house sleeps, snuggled under their comforters. Wally snores peacefully. I slide my hand onto his belly, and it moves up and down with his inhale and exhale. What joy this creature has brought, this little ball of life.

I get out of bed. Sigh. Thick wool socks. Smart Wool, long underwear. Hoodie. Snow pants. Lined Boots. Come on Arctic blast, hit me, give me your best shot.

I walk.

Not a soul in the park. No runners. No walkers. No dredgers, who are off for the long weekend. And here I am, 985 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

Surprised, I am, at the ebbs and flows. 12 years here at this blogging thing, and it’s ebbing, a low tide that ebbs 1 day, and ebbs 2 days and ebbs 3 days, followed by a shoulder shrug. Time with Wally. Time with book. Time with Netflix.

Yet, here we are, approaching 1000 consecutive (almost) days on these morning walks, you would think boredom is beyond setting in, walking this same track.

What do you have for me today? What magic light can you spring from your skies, from your waters, from your trees? 

Anna Kamienska in “Lack of Faith”: “Yes, even when I don’t believe— there is a place in me inaccessible to unbelief, a patch of wild grace, a stubborn preserve…. music that builds its nest in silence.”

Here she comes. With her blues, a blue, non-existent on the human color palettes. A mix between Cyan and Turquoise.

I snap the shot, pause to admire it, tuck my hands back into my coat to shelter from the wind.

And I walk.

If there is a God, she is here.

Looking over Cove Island.


DK Photo @ 6:49 am. January 15, 2022. 27° F, feels like 15° F, wind gusts up to 32 mph. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. More photos from this morning’s walk here.

50 thoughts on “Walking. In place inaccessible to unbelief.

  1. This is a gorgeous post, DK at his best. A combination of heartfelt, honest writing and meaningful, relevant quotes. Maybe a picture to tie it all together. I’m grateful for your consistency, your constance, the reliable punctuality of your posts, in spite of the ebbs and flows. I don’t always “like” or comment, but I always check in. Thank you 🙏

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  2. It almost looks as if the sky is smiling ever so slightly. Lips parted just wide enough to give you the glimpse of light you need on this day. Enough to sustain you and enough to share your thoughts with all of us. Thank you.

    Liked by 3 people

  3. Beautiful photo, DK.

    I’ll be honest with you. I have asked myself this question several times, “what will you do if and when DK stops blogging, WP, Instagram, and Tumblr.”

    There will be something massive missing. A hole in the shape of inspiration to infinity and beyond. Inspiration seeps into everything, like ink. All this will be missing. I go back to L&L like a reference source. Even the 2 years I was gone, I was always here. All you see is a few comments and likes from me. What you do not see is the number of times I pull L&L like a magician pulls a new trick. You have been a constant source of inspiration. And a solid reference for so much. Even at work.

    I often wonder, what is the great constant in the lives of my great constants? You have been one of my very few great constants.

    I’m grateful for you.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. This is touching a cord deep in me. As for the Camus quote, I know it too well and often wondered if it‘d applied to me too…. But then, when first my little sister and later my mother died, there were moments of deep winter in me and yet, I felt the invincible summer too. So, I‘m sure he was right!
    You‘ve already received so many truly wonderful comments, I won‘t bother you with much more. I too am grateful for having found you in my inbox day after day, sharing your citations, feelings, photos, observations and thoughts with me as with so many others. Thank You.
    I also love the BLUES…. All of them, even mine, as seldom and occasional as they are. I received, long ago, a card with the citation Wild Women don‘t get the Blues and it still makes me smile. Blue is my colour and blue is such a beautiful colour in all its blueish hues.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. You also should tell wally just how much you love him…. He‘s already made you a mellower human being! touching his belly to feel his breathing reminded me of feeling a beloved one to find out (without opening the eyes) if they are peacefully breathing next to you…

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  6. Awww, pal, I continue to marvel at your consistency, like daily, and as so many others have said, I am grateful for your observations, your humor, your insights, your photos, your honesty, your little bundle of love named Wally…all of it. As Sawsan said, wouldn’t be the same without my dose of DK each morning. Color me grateful. Here’s to another 1,000 days….😉🥰

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  7. Even if you go to the same place day after day, if you are watching for it, each day you’ll see some new thing however small, some change, that you didn’t see the day before. It keeps life interesting and keeps our brains alive.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. To read this and presume a response, would be the height of cheek. The religion is found in the vista your photo offers, the solitary worship of the moment and the words that you share (1,000 times, almost in a row). Ebb or flow matters little, for you need to respect the ebb as much as you’ve honored the flow. We’re all going to be here regardless.

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  9. I think nature Always has something in store, that has Always been there! It’s just up to us dull humans to look deeper! Beautiful colors, is right! And 27 degrees? That’s summertime to northern New Mexico peeps, jeez! We’re dealing with mornings that hover around zero. Hawaii is only a memory away! 😝😜😂

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