3:30 am.
Wally skooches (sp?) up from under the covers and gives me kisses. How does one not smile at this wonderful creature, even this hour. Wally needs to go wee-wee. He races out to the end of the yard, does his business, and comes bolting back, doing a full body shake in flight to shake the cold off — Wally wants no part of what’s outside at this hour. And I can’t blame him.
I shiver, look up, and there’s Moon, in her full glory. I grab the camera and take the shot— best to have something to show for this unexpected Call-of-Wally-Duty at this hour. (Shot here.)
5:30 am.
1,416 consecutive (almost) days on this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a Row.
Susan reminded me last night that it’s the first day of Spring. I wondered if I forgot to push the clock back a month with the time change. The thermometer reads 29 F°, but there is no way in Hell it’s remotely close to that. Wind gusts up to 25 mph are blowing (I mean BLOWING) off Long Island Sound, and miraculously finding every exposed piece of flesh, which is a miracle in itself given that I’m 4-layered up. Shiver, again.
There are only 4 of us out in the Park this morning, the Regulars, with King Lunatic out front. “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” Well, mostly true here, except the gloom or sheets of rain can present temporary obstacles.
Continue reading “Walking. Like a Pissant.”