I love the early-morning all fluffed up against the cold hawk.
Green eyes -- who knew?
Fact: The sun rose.
The mechanics of the Tiny Labrador drinking, because who couldn't use a laugh just about now?
Sunsets this time of year are not so much spectacle as a slow spin the color wheel, the far end of it lingering until the very last ray of light.
The view from Point Dume yesterday afternoon, icy air, surging seas, gulls grounded in the windblown aftermath.
Where once we'd get three days of rain we now get (maybe) three hours. Grateful for even this tiny bit and holding out hope for more.
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