It’s the wetness in the woods, Frank says tonight, after having to go out into the dark evening, chilly evening, moonless evening, to find Charleston. Chasing the wet animals Frank says. He gets him home. It was a light sprinkle when I went out this morning, and fairly mild. I walked for two hours, a long and happy aimless ramble. And, a productive day in my office. Wrote and sent my weekly Aim for Astonishing prompt; later, wrote my monthly newsletter. It felt good to get caught up with writing I wanted to write. Soon after I sat down, I took a bit of a break. My daughter came in, as we had planned to meditate with the Joy Harjo poem I recorded and shared with you last night. So, in the coziness of my office, I turned off the lights; lit a candle, draped a shawl over her shoulders, and also her feet, and struck a note on my singing bowl. Then, we listened in silence, and meditated for 10 minutes after the poem. And then we shared, which turned into a long heart-to-heart. And I was so glad to have this special time with her. I reminded her it was this time, early January, some years ago when we went, the two of us, on the 10-day silent Vipassana retreat in Western Mass. The blue rug that has been in the dining room under the dining room table for decades is now on the brown grass of the yard waiting to be thrown away. I remember when we bought the rug, almost thirty years ago. We were living in Florida, just before we moved back to New England. It was in a house we rented after selling ours, and the owner offered to sell it to us, and the dining room table as well. We bought both. The table is long gone, and the rug has failed to please us for many years; it’s so so blue in a house of greens, yellows, organic and nature inspired colors. Still, I was sorry to see it there, rolled up at the end of its life after serving us so well for so many years. Goodbye blue rug. And thank you.