Breathing Room

This day was one of my favorite in both aspect and attitude. The weather was just right, not too hot, not too cool. (Yes, I am a bit like Goldilocks when it comes to temperature). I met my fitness friends at 7am for a brisk four-mile-walk. Then we shared a healthy breakfast at Eileen’s Café – scrambled eggs, fresh pico de gallo, avocado, and pepper jack cheese accompanied by smooth and creamy breves. Have you ever tried a breve? Espresso with velvety steamed half-and-half. With no guilt or worry, we shared a raspberry scone, and each bite was a delight.

Then on to the Farmer’s Market to visit my favorite vendors. The market is a great meeting place with stops for “hi, how are you doing?” and hugs and petting dogs and sampling homemade pies. More fresh strawberries, red rock cabbage microgreens, and Thai basil go into my market bag.

There is time for an extra cup of coffee and conversation with my friend Diana as we sit outside in front of Hyperion Espresso. And the talk is uplifting and real and deep.

With the day open before me like a clean sheet of paper, I take my camera for a walk as it becomes the pencil that writes my feelings and records my observations. This intersection between documenting and experiencing is my happy place. Meander. Flâneur.  

There are things I notice and record . . .  like the swirl of the cream in my cup, the cascade of white teardrops on the hydrangea hedge, the tendrils of cabbage shoots, the fluffy plumes of the smoke tree, the swift and certain hands of the farmer-at-work, the letter A above the mail slot, and the gate to home . . . these are the makings of my perfect day.

Days like this one used to be rare. There was always something to do that seemed urgent, some place to be, a schedule to follow, an agenda, a deadline. I see now that many of these restrictions were arbitrary and meaningless, and even worse, self-imposed.

“What art offers is space – a certain breathing room for the spirit.” –John Updike