Morning Mists of Peace

August is such a push-pull month. It’s hot and it’s sticky. Stack that up against corn on the cob — I’ll take it.

It’s dramatic. Thunder storms, flooding rains, roaring winds and then stagnant humidity. Nothing to do but sit in front of the fan and drip. It’s annoying for everyone, but can be its own little hell for menopausal women who are dripping anyway!

But then there are these quiet, lovely, misty mornings. The mist gathers on fields and it gathers on bodies of water. And it is beautiful and peaceful and calm. There is nothing more delightful… hmm… checking for hyperbole… nah, maybe equally delightful, but not more so!… than slipping into a lake or a pond and swimming into the mist.

For me, this is a place I meet Peace. I don’t indulge that often enough. Where do you meet it? And do you go there often enough? Do we ever? Take these caresses of Peace where they’re offered…


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