I brought my slippers with me on this trip to Reno, and I wonder what took me so long. They’re comfortable, of course, but they’re comforting, too. Like Mr. Rogers’
introduction (though my cardigan’s still at home
), my boiled-wool slippers
bring me home.
Morning mist huddled against the eastern range.
On the way home I had another edible moon
– a wafer, a water cracker moon. The snow hangs on to the pale twilit sky, ethereal, but below the snow-line the rocks are black with indifference.
Today’s word is peripatetic
, for no other reason than I thought of it. It has a nice staccato finish to it, don’t you think?