it is lovely to be tired

It is late in the afternoon.  I am wearing a mexican vest and sitting on my deck. Ring-necked pheasants are croaking from various places in the field.  I am a good kind of tired as I listen to the transition into evening.  A warm breeze is blowing.

I am sipping my favourite bourbon from an aforementioned little clay yogourt pot.  My good boy is standing nearby and looking out over the field.

I have spent the last three days teaching a flatwater paddling course.  The group was keen and talented and never complained.  The world is flooding around us yet the weather gods kept us safe and not too wet in our little neck of the woods.  The boats lined up and mother-ducked wonderfully and two loons called and dove as we went by.  An osprey glided overhead.   Sincere people shook our hands and thanked us.

I came home to good food and went to sleep with loving eyes smiling at me.

My daughter is here and the sounds of her and her friends are coming from the kitchen.

Things are uncomplicated and wonderfully simple.

I am thankful for this

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