January 13: River of Stones

Songs give promise to a happy evening.
Birds on a wire.
Sheet music in the sky.

January 12: River of Stones

An editorial note before sharing today's "Stone". I'm seeing more and more each day. I make notes. I shoot a photo. But finding time to post the day's effort is sometimes challenging. Hence the delays. Very sorry. As for this photo, I was out jogging with the dogs and had only my cellphone. I learned that the cellphone doesn't take great shots when the morning sun is not quite up; and especially when dogs are tugging the leash attached to your camera hand.
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DOG RUN CUT SHORT

The paved road felt strangely muddy. Then came the smell mingled with the sounds. And finally; the sheep. Lambs on the loose, they'd escaped their protective captivity.

Excited dogs. Shoes, covered with evidence of the path they'd taken.

Time to go home.

January 11: River of Stones

This door has no knob. Instead, a handle: a 7-years used, chrome colored handle. Seven years opening the portal to a world of books. Oh the hands this handle has known — cold hands and warm, small and large, gloved and bare, black, white, and all colors in between. Friendly hands. Hands eager to touch what is new in the world of words.

January 10: River of Stones

A glance at the floor evokes a "Hmmm...what's that?

"Three rings stacked atop each other, perhaps. Not sure. Very curious."

A closer look, a little nudge. It's soft, pliable, stretchable. It's just a rubber band that decided to fool me.

I guess a rubber band can take any shape it chooses to when left alone.

January 9: River of Stones

It does get cold in California, even on the coast...
sometimes, down to freezing.
Glittering ice crystallizes on the car's roof, clumps on the window like too much frosting on a cake.
The Volvo's going nowhere until the warm sun does its job.

January 8: River of Stones

Scrubbed smooth by the tide, the morning sand introduces its visitors;
One small dog, one large and me...
Hobbit, Buddy and Joel...on a 7AM run.
The first tracks of the day. Tomorrow they'll be gone.

For all time.

January 7: River of Stones

Two narrow twigs hanging random in a tree
Sort of like a fishing pole is how it looks to me

Kind of amusing when you let your mind go free
Maybe Mother Nature's simply trying to catch me.