Sunday Morning Early

5:53

5:58

6:03

7:08

I was up in time to see the sunrise but the clouds like huge marshmallows hid its rising until it was able to rise above them and light up the morning.  And I am listening to C-Span, to a discussion of the book EVERYBODY LIES.  It analyzes how using Google trend data helps to understand all sorts of aspects of life.  It's a peek into people's psyches.  For example, by using the data from the number of hits for a candidate, it can predict an election within 5%.  Or it can tell us how religious a state is by the number of Bible hits.  What is done with that data depends on who we are?  If a politician, you might mention God and the Bible more often in a religious state rather than a more secular one.  In other words, what people look at, where they go to on Google, gives statisticians/retailers a good idea of a trend, what people are thinking, worrying about, or are interested in.  It's now 9:20 and I have just gotten back from an hour paddle, down to Whitney Bay and back.  I ran into a student of mine from 1984, who has a home on the lake in Magnolia.  I also ran into this blue heron.

Poised For Flight

Before I begin my blog, I want to mention that my grandson Mitchell is spending a week on the Greek Island of Mykonos, the guest of a good friend's family.  This is the view from their house on the island.  Maybe not quite as spectacular as the view from our front porch but pretty nice.

Mykonos, Greece

Yesterday ended up being a fun day even though we were still suffering from the boredom of an empty house.  The method to combat this is work, action, even play.  So I got active early, with a kayak paddle for an hour.  When I got home, Evie was up and we finished the blog and I had my healthy breakfast, oats, yogurt, blueberries and a granola. Both of us then started straightening and cleaning, the kitchen, the bedrooms, and getting the trash ready to take to the Transfer Station.  After my trip to the Transfer Station, I drove to Lakewood, to Sam's, to do some shopping for a couple of items.  I did not linger, picked up what we needed and headed home, stopping only to get gas for the car and lawn mower.  When I got home, Evie had already cut the lawn and gone for swim and was ready to go out on the dock and enjoy an afternoon of sun.  I had lunch, chicken salad from Sam's, on a bagel and watched some TV and then napped before joining Evie out on the dock.  Why do I feel guilty about taking a nap?   The dock was sunny but windy and as long as we had the wind at our backs, we were fine.

Neighborhood Gals

Neighbors

At 5:30, we showered and then walked down to the Woodlawn right of way for the first of three gatherings of the neighbors.  Everyone brings an appetizer and libations and we enjoy each others company from 5:00 to 7:00.  It's a good time to see neighbors who have gone South for the winter or just have not been to get to the lake during the colder months.  We always enjoy it and it helps all of us to get to know each other better.  It's especially helpful to the new people.  We stayed until 7:30 and though I filled up on appetizers,  I was able to eat a chicken and tomato sandwich for dinner as we watched another Real Time With Bill Maher and two episodes of FARGO until it was time to go up to bed.

More Neighbors

From Today's Writer's Almanac:

Sunday Morning Early by David Romtvedt My daughter and I paddle red kayaks across the lake. Pulling hard, we slip easily through the water. Far from either shore, it hits me that my daughter is a young woman and suddenly everything is a metaphor for how short a time we are granted: the red boats on the blue-black water, the russet and gold of late summer’s grasses, the empty sky. We stop and listen to the stillness. I say, “It’s Sunday, and here we are in the church of the out of doors,” then wish I’d kept quiet. That’s the trick in life— learning to leave well enough alone. Our boats drift to where the chirring of grasshoppers reaches us from the rocky hills. A clap of thunder. I want to say something truer than I love you. I want my daughter to know that, through her, I live a life that was closed to me. I paddle up, lean out, and touch her hand. I start to speak then stop.