Yes, indeed, last week we ventured out to our favorite place: St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. It was a beautiful day, and the moon again made an appearance. You might have to squint to see it in the below photo, but it’s there.

While out and about, we met an interesting guy who was hiking the Florida Trail. I wrote about the experience for Crow’s Feet, a Medium publication. You can read it here: Compelled by Grief, Compelled by Love. I’m not enamored of the title and wish I had spent more time tweaking it, but it does sum up what drives this particular person to hike hundreds of miles.

What I like best about biking in the afternoon is the light. The sun casts a golden glow along the treetops as we ride back toward the car.

I’m still going on my morning walks although I missed two mornings in a row this week: one because I went instead to a yoga class, and the other because I needed to pick up a CD of my MRI images. It was one of those little tasks peculiar to the medical-industrial complex that annoy me until I can complete it. The orthopedist that I’m scheduled to see in March wants it. Goodness. I am not sure why these facilities cannot share images as well as reports, but apparently, it’s still 1999 around here.

This morning I really had to drag myself outdoors, but once out there, I kept walking. I saw two red-shouldered hawks initiate a mating dance, but then they saw me. I can only imagine what curses flew through their raptor brains. They flew off separately, but in the same direction. Probably to find a more private tree.

Next, I saw a bluebird. Not a rare sighting around here, but this lovely guy hung out on a power line, giving me a few minutes to admire his orange and white breast, and then the breathtaking brilliant blue of his back and wings as he turned and flew off. No photos of hawks or bluebirds because I was too busy living in the moment.

I had lunch with a former coworker the other day. I hadn’t seen her face to face in almost two years. We were in that enviable group of 60-pluses and sent home to work early in the pandemic. I retired last March and hadn’t seen her at all since then. She still works with my former employer, and she filled me in on all the drama. Fortunately, she’s a person with a lot of interests so we also talked about knitting, cooking, traveling, gardening, and bicycling, in no particular order. She let me know–a few times–that they (the office) have money and, if I’m casting about for something to do, they’d love to hire me back on contract.

It’s a lovely boost to the ego to still be wanted, to know that a special group of people would want to work with me again.

My response, after ignoring the first couple of offers: “I know I’m retired, but I feel like there are not enough hours in the day to do all that I want to do.” That’s it. I’m not casting about for something to do. I’m casting about but for how to do what I want to do and still get enough sleep. To that end, I signed up for a free Bullet Journal Workshop at my local independent bookstore. I’m not sure if I really want to take the workshop, or if I just want an excuse to purchase one of the bundles being offered for use at the workshop: a Leuchtturm Journal (style of your choice), 5 Pastel Highlighters, 7 Colored Pen Pack, Letterpress Stamp Set and Ink. What do you think? Do I need another journal? More pens and highlights?

The workshop will be next Saturday so I still have a whole week to continue practicing procrastination.

In the meantime, here’s Wendy bathing and playing with her blanket, the same blanket in which she was brought home about 8 1/2 years ago.