It is perfect.
No, the sun is not shining. Periodically the mottled clouds overhead decide to spit a little to scatter drops on the windows of my newly constructed study. But, it is still perfect.
Through those rain-speckled windows I see the water of the Grand Canal. Ducks and seagulls float nonchalantly by, the heron and kingfisher make their presence known, and I can hear the crashing waves in the distance. Oh yes, this is perfection.
The air is pure and clean.
The wind chimes are clearly tuned and designing their own melody with the breeze.
My love is busily working on a project nearby. The music is comforting in the background.
This is perfection. A nice contrast to the week.
|the view of our place from the canal (on a sunnier moment)|
We only get to escape to our retreat on the weekends. But, oh my, what a treat.
And a blessing of sanity.
The crash of waves awakens my senses.
The wind in my face fills my lungs.
The sand between my toes brings me back to a reality
that sweeps away the stress of the week.