A summer's morning

Ah, summer, what power you have to make us suffer and like it.

-- Russell Baker

Simply super

Well, yes, the game was pretty super.  And even though I'd not breathed a word of it prior to kick-off for fear of jinxing the outcome (delusional to think I have that kind of power, I know), my preferred team actually won.  Something about a city-owned team ...

But, before that ... super started long before the football game.

I like the distinct shadow cast
on the second green by the tree
along with its indistinct
reflection in the water.

The sun was out all day.  After three inches of rain on Friday and total grey yesterday I found myself having to shield my eyes when I went outside, which was a often as possible.  With the air clean and clear the light was brilliant, illuminating things in such a way that caught my breath again and again, and casting dramatic, dark shadows. 

Our two walks -- one early, one late, one to and around the golf course's edge at Pine Ridge and the other along the promenade here at Willowbank, resulted in many photographs.  That activity I probably don't need to mention slowed our progress rather much.  But, Tal complained not even once!


Along the water's edge in the late afternoon

Football final or not, I'll take a day like this any time I can get it.

A gray day

The days of late have been wet and cold. And, today dawned foggy. With errands to do -- like the grocery story and the pharmacy -- requiring moving a vehicle, we included a walk on the Governor's Rail Trail (a two-mile round trip) in Edgefield part of our outing. While we set out across the dam at Slade Lake in dense fog, that fog eventually formed drops and we ended up wet. And, everything we saw dripped.


This sort of damp darkness doesn't necessarily have a negative effect on me. In fact, I rather like overcast days. (I've been known to say that they match my personality.) This one, though, took a turn toward a heavy sadness.

The county coronor called during the afternoon to ask a favor. He had with him at the funeral home two twenty-something women, daughters of a man who had died. They were the next-of-kin, one living in Charleston and the other in Chicago, planning a funeral and coming to terms not only with his death but with his suicide. Would I help? Would I officiate? No time to fill the silence after the question mark with explanations of canon law. Planning a funeral to be held on Monday is next.

But, before that. The late afternoon, still and grey, was perfect for another attempt at a panorama of a favorite spot on our usual walking route -- recently trimmed pampas grass at the 13th green on the Pine Ridge Country Club golf course. This one is better than previous efforts, but not the one just yet. But, I think it sets the tone for the end of this day. Somber and sedate.