Travels: Jersey

Summer cannot come fast enough. It's so muggy you'd think it's already here. I'm so lazy you'd think it's already here.
Grading & planning are dwindling and I have begun to leave my work at work.
Glory.
Today I read on the deck, sipped diet coke, and watched the light scintillate through the leaves of very green trees.
I like Virginia. I like summer. I still have not decided if I like Virginia summers.
But, next Friday, I break the confines of the Virginia border-- on to Florida and its emerald waves and crystalline sand--to see my long-lost brother the helicopter pilot.
And, last Friday, I broke the confinements of the Virginia border-- went to New Jersey to witness a wedding. Woke up with the sun on Saturday; walked across an empty street to watch horses eat their morning meal as I drank my morning coffee. Fields are comforting to me, maybe because, unlike many things, they don't seem to end. I could stare into a field or into a forest forever, it seems. One thing I do miss from my travels out west is the exhilarating openness of the land. You look around and you see for miles. You feel so small and insignificant, but at the same time, unconfined and uninhibited. The land's inherent freedom seeps into your skin and ignites your bones and you become a part of something grander than yourself. Or that something grander becomes a part of you. Nonetheless, what many people consider emptiness can actually be very fulfilling-- you just have to realize that fulfillment is often created from barren places. I however, am still learning that lesson-- And teaching oneself how to really see is a life-long task.

From this weekend: I do remain grateful for horse breakfast and soft, hazy morning light.