Still with the little camera. And I've just been told that a part is on order and it may be another three or four weeks before I get the Nikon back. But I'm discovering things about the little camera I hadn't known (I was on pain meds back when I first got the camera and couldn't really concentrate. Plus, if there was an owner's manual, I don't know where it is nor, indeed, if I ever saw it. A lot is hazy about those months.)
But now I've discovered the panorama function, which is pretty nifty -- though it doesn't show up very well on Blogger
Walking with Josie put me in mind of long ago (seventy plus years) walks with my grandfather on the golf course adjacent to his house.
It would be in the evening, after there were no golfers out, and though my brother and I weren't allowed to walk on the putting greens or in the sand traps (enticing though they were), we could roll down the low hills surrounding the greens.
I think that early experience -- the feeling of great stretches of green distance and the freedom to run -- may have been a part of why moving to the mountains felt not only right, but necessary.
as well as downhill work.
One of the joys of spending time with her is the sudden flashes of memory -- remembering when I was the cherished grandchild and the deep connection I had with my maternal grandparents.
This is such a magical time of year, time of life . . . for both of us.
We both have so much to discover -- and so much to teach each other.
Little children and dogs both live in the moment -- and sharing these moments is like meditation.
All things come to an end -- Bob told us that the moment had come to feed the dogs.
Josie didn't agree.
In fact, she staged a lie-in to protest.
But at last she admitted that dogs should be fed and we could come back another day. Which we most certainly will.
