The first day of the rest of their lives

I didn’t know turkeys could tiptoe, but these guys seemed like they were.

We weren’t five minutes from our house, on our way to Thanksgiving dinner in Connecticut, when we had to stop to let them pass.

Shimmering

“Shimmer” is not a word I use very often.

I don’t have anything against it — most of the words that make me cringe are of the corporate-speak or grind-industrial complex categories, “piggybacking” being the worst, although I’ve been throwing a lot of side-eye at “comfort zone” lately — it’s just not a regular part of my vocabulary.

But as I walked toward the river and saw the one angle where the sun hit the water just right, and “shimmering” is the word that popped into my head.

End of the day, and days to come

I stepped outside into the last few minutes of sunlight before the already-too-early New England sunset.

The sun was still bright through the woods and across the road beneath our hill. It just wasn’t going to be out much longer.

Back on my street, the sky seemed powder blue, soft-focus, with a touch of pink thrown in. It wasn’t so much “golden hour” as “pastel hour.”

If only it were that easy

“Awww … Sasha’s on the daybed.”

I went upstairs to the extra bedroom that basically functions as our office, and sure enough, there was our cat, looking adorable among the carefully arranged pillows.

Everything is time

“Do you want to walk?”

“Yes.”

She says she loves it when I’m decisive.