We laughed for a while about the special parking spot for “employee of the quarter.” Do you suppose that “employee of the month” seemed a bit too easy and “employee of the year” was perhaps too much to expect?

We stood beneath the trees and watched the leaves swirl and twirl and fall to the ground. I fiddled with the camera settings trying to figure out how to stop motion. Or maybe motion blur would be better. In the end, I just took pictures and hoped.

We walked through the farmers’ market admiring fresh produce. We didn’t buy anything because inflation has us pinching our pennies.

Many days are simple and ordinary. We will share supper with my mother-in-law, figure out the Wordle for today, and finish the books that are due back to the library this week. I decide that mindfulness is my kind of meditation.

The Light of the World

In Laura Pashby’s Small Stories today, she writes about “fog alerts.” Her dearest friends and family know her well and care about what she cares about. They understand her love for photographing fog, and when they see the fog roll in, they send texts to alert her.

I wonder what type of love language this is . . . when someone knows you deeply, when someone gets you without judgment, when someone jumps in beside you even if it’s not their thing, when someone bears witness to the way you see the world.

I have friends like this. They call or send texts to say I thought of you when I saw this place and I knew you would love to make pictures here.