2025-08-07

I wake up to an overcast morning and immediately head out for a walk after breakfast.

It’s the usual path—just enough exercise without demanding too much time. A tree-lined road that goes into a dead end, with barely any traffic. Straight as the road is, it cuts across two different streams in less than half a mile.

It must have rained last night. The ground is wet. Droplets fall from the trees as they gently sway in the wind. Greenish-brown slugs, some as large as one's finger with ridges on their back, crawl all over the sidewalk in search of water and fallen leaves.

On my way back, a man in orange with a rusty machete trims the blackberries vines and overgrown cottonwood branches. He smiles and gestures as I pass. I sniffle-moist air, laced with scents of freshly cut grass and cedar, rushes into my lung. I think it's going to be another beautiful day.