I always enjoy walking across them, but ... floating under them, well, that's the real magic here.
Just last week, there were a lot more leaves up here. And a lot fewer down there, on the ground. They went from green to yellow to copper to brown on the ground. Makes you wonder.
Me and the pelican, we were both watchin' the tide roll away. Wastin' time. I remember it. Clearly. Must have been a Sunday. Press Play. You have a minute to waste. C'mon, it's Sunday. Whistle along with us.
Press Play. One minute later, we'll count backward from five. Then I'll snap my fingers.
The walk through the patch to find the perfect pumpkin is a pretty perfect thing to do on a Sunday. This Sunday. I think this is the one. Little blemish, but great shape. Ya think?
Every color. Every shade. It's all out here right now. You should be, too. Won't last long, so move it, huh?
You look at your apple and you think, how hard could this be? Then you open your mouth, you bend over and you think, hey, how is this even possible? If you haven't done it for a while, you'll need some practice. And a face towel.
Sometimes you hike for miles, all uphill, and you can't see the forest for the trees. Or the range for the mountains. So you trust your trail. To get you above it all. Where it all becomes clear. What a refreshing perspective.
I'm thinking about being a grape. Just hanging out in the late summer sun. Getting ready to be a drop or two in a great glass of wine. Is that too ambitious for a Sunday?
Take one flowing stream and a quiet lake; call me in the morning. I think you'll feel better. Really. Press Play for a dose.