Beau and I were wandering along in the murk, the thermometer hovering around zero and a raw wind blowing across the backs of our necks. We were thinking about home and considering our options when we got there: tea, a comfortable chair, a good book, a lighted, wonderfully smelly candle. They all exerted a sovereign tug.
Then the clouds moved away, and the day was bathed in sunshine. The sky was blue, and the little river in the gutter was a sea of light adrift in tiny, dazzling leaf boats. We felt like raising our arms and shouting hallelujah.
Out of such happenings, a thoughtful (and occasionally joyous) life is made.
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