Wednesday Morning in Pictures

Only a few lower clouds left by this time.

(But before I get into Wednesday morning, I just want to say: texting someone late at night (like after 11:00) isn't thoughtful.)

Headed out this morning a bit later than usual. What a difference a half hour makes in the morning. It isn't my first choice to be over by the middle and high schools at the commencement of the educational day - but it's better than not getting out at all and I had a book I needed to return to the library, so off I went.

By the front door of the library - some new friends.

Idyllic looking setting for sunrise.

Decided kids who walk to school are a rarity.  Felt a twinge of sympathy for the middle schooler whose Mom stood at the crosswalk by the school (she had walked her child to school and I applaud her spending time with her child, walking and talking together is a great thing!) yelling at the top of her lungs (yes, really really loud, she's a Mom after all), "Honey, I love you.  I miss you!"  This child has only been away from the Mom's side for maybe 45 seconds - yep, still crossing the street.  Maybe that's some kind of inside/family joke? I'm just glad it wasn't me being yelled at, I'd be embarrassed. But that's just me and I know I don't look at things the same way others do.

Definite buds - spring signs.

Came home full of things to tell The Husband who brightened my day by walking out to meet me on the trail - reading a book.  Two of my very favorite things to do and I enjoy them even more when combined.  I can't sip a drink, or eat anything while I'm walking but I totally love reading and walking at the same time.

And those eggs?  Every once in a while, I'll open the fridge for an egg and suddenly find them with personalities!  The Husband waits for my giggle after he's decorated them. Things are never dull around here.

And today, I'm finding gratitude in puttering around here.  Also for free e-books.  For spontaneous lunches out.  For lunches out with friends to look forward to, for my beautiful piano. And for every single sunrise that holds the promise of the gift of another day.