There is a particular kind of quiet that only shows up when the rain
settles in for the afternoon. I made a second pot of coffee and finally
read the book that had been sitting on the windowsill since spring.
Nothing was accomplished, and that felt like the point.
A short list of small joys
Warm bread. The first cold morning. Finding a pen that writes well.
A train that arrives exactly on time. Handwriting a letter you don't
strictly need to send.
Notes to self
Walk more. Answer fewer messages after nine. Keep the plants alive.
Remember that most things are not urgent.