I woke early, eager for my bike ride, to meet my young friend, my daughter’s friend, a friend since kindergarten. It rained last night, the streets were slightly puddled, and fresh, and the trees to, very green and wet. It was cool, and this gave me energy. We rode the tree lined streets, up and down the steep hills, from Sherborn into Dover and back. And talked. And the cars and trucks swerved past us, commuting. I was remembering the sweet happiness of introducing my daughter, this friend, her brother, and another close friend to their first mini-triathlon. How they trusted me that his would be a good idea. And, it was. She is living home right now, from D.C. and working from home because of the pandemic. Like so many of my daugther’s friends right now. We rode 17 miles and then parted. She was rushing ahead of me to get home to work. Once home, my daughter was just going out the door with the dogs and so I joined her for a short walk and talk, which was the right choice. It was a busy, satisfying day. I prepared for my Aim for Astonishing Tuesday night six-month workshop which was tonight, on the theme of “enchantment.” In the late afternoon I went to my friend’s dock with my daughter and the dogs and my son turned up with his mighty puppy and so there was quite a fun romp, but poor Charlie, he’s patient, but he’s getting his workout from the puppy who cannot leave him alone. Perhaps because I have been preparing, and warming up to the theme of finding enchantment in a personal photo, I noticed the sparkling late afternoon sun glinting on the surface of the pond. The workshop tonight was deep and powerful, enlivening, and – yes, full of enchantment. The sharing and listening was caring and authentic. And enlivening, as writing and listening can be.