Before walking today, I dipped in the pool and swam with this crab (who crawled over the fence and up into our salt water pool overnight) until another early riser called my attention to him. We did not eat him. We carried him down to the sea and sent him on his way.

Also before walking today, my husband and I drove into Saint Anne to buy fresh croissants from a busy patisserie for our new arrivals, and stood in line, of course. In little brown sleeves I shielded the fresh, warm pain au chocolat as we ran down the street to our car under a spontaneous heavy shower.

Then, as I was telling my husband about something that was worrying me - some vague fears for the future over which I have zero control - we drove straight under a double rainbow. Which means I have nothing to worry about. Because I have always trusted the double rainbow to remind me I have a useless compulsion to worry when, really, all will be well. 

What's more, I trusted this double rainbow's message because my husband didn't say stop worrying, you're always worrying, you've got nothing to worry about, he said what he mostly says: look! A rainbow! And he pulled the car over quickly and told me to get a closer look, and waited while I ran across the street, the wet pavement, toward the sea – chased the rainbow to the sand with my camera and stopped and I stood at the end of the rainbow.

And, after all, later, there was my daily hike to the beach and back. There was hibiscus blooming along the sea and all was so much better than well, moment by moment, as it often is.

All photos and text copyright Kelly DuMar 2017 unless otherwise attributed