Thanksgiving, Quietly

today

I know it's not a beautiful picture, but that's the way things look out here today. A few green blades have made an appearance, but the hills are still a muffled brown. The light has that autumnal slant, and everything seems subdued.

Subdued is how I feel right now, and quietly grateful for many things. Ours will be a tiny, impromptu Thanksgiving meal, but I don't crave anything more than this and I'm happy to be home.

We went for a substantial walk yesterday. I wanted to do something symbolic, like going up to Gaviota Peak, but Monte had a different idea, which involved about four hours' worth of hiking on dirt roads right here, and believe me, it was a good enough trek.  

We trudged along steadily, observing the changes and the constancy of this familiar land. Now and then a monarch butterfly or two would dance about, poise at the ground, and then soar away before us like erratic little chaperones.

I was listening to Beethoven on my iPod, and as we crested a long, steep hill to a view of the sea and Santa Cruz Island, there came the second movement of his Symphony Number 7 in A Major, so profoundly touching it was like hearing it for the first time. And I decided that Beethoven's music, sweeping and epic and filled as it is with triumph and sorrow,  could be the soundtrack of life.

God bless this world

.And thank you.