|Oatstraw and nettles.|
A walk was just the thing I needed. Brisk weather, leaves blowing, the fetid scents of a waning year. The dogs were catching every scent on the breeze and on the ground along the way. I forget, too often, they need the walks too. Nothing spectacular occurred. No epiphanies. Merely the sublimity of a walk in late fall in all its simplicity. One foot in front of the other.
Once dry, I'll have to find a bit of wall to hang it on. Or figure out how to sell it. I'm not good at selling my paintings, but I'll learn.
for the fruit of Spirit?
By not always greedily
stretching out our hands.