I tend to associate monochromatic landscape with the winter months. But, yes, summer has foggy, damp, grey days. And this one follows a day that could not have been clearer, more vibrant with color. Such a contrast.
Samsun is here this weekend. He’s visiting with a wonderful group of writer friends. They all arrived late Friday and after a sweet dinner I and before I turned in, I told them, “Please sleep in.” And they did. One couple did not wake up until the afternoon on Saturday. We had a glorious number of hours of time and talk together in the sunshine of the afternoon and beautiful light of sunset When I woke this morning at 5, they were up. Up and swimming. Their second swim since I left them in the evening…
Now, I’m someone who thinks of the night as dark. For sleeping. For them: hours and hours of talk about writing and time together. Lots of light for the soul. Dark and light together.
I didn’t stay up with them. I met them in the grey of early morning. I met their vibrancy as it was ebbing. I was slowly waking up, transitioning into my time awake.
It’s quiet now. I’m up. Moving about. All others are asleep. Peaceful.
On this day. This grey day.