Wednesday, December 23, 2020

Wooded Path

 The warmth of this morning has flown, and blustery winds have moved in.  Even on the cold days, I get outside to walk with my trusty companion with ink and paper in my deep pockets. The sunset is singing as my pen sketches the trail before me.  In this peaceful place walked by my ancestors, I can almost feel them by my side. I am so at one with this place.  Life is made of the little things, each one matters. I now head back to start dinner and check in with the family.  Christmas is almost here. Painting number 2909 in 2909 days. 

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