As quickly as November was ushered in, it has been rushed out. Things seem to be moving faster now, and I find myself worrying again about time. Where did this year go? How is it possible we’re a month today from Christmas?
Planes, for me, are inherent symbols of freedom and adventure. They’re stunning pieces of man-made technology. I love to know where they’re heading, thinking about who could be onboard and what they’re all going to do at their destination. It’s partly an exercise in imagination, and it makes me appreciate these machines on a more human level.
Today is my Grandma’s 90th birthday. And it’s not everyday you make such a significant birthday and I’m very thankful I am at home to celebrate with her. In a few hours, we’re going to be having a high tea for her.
It was a chilly 12 degrees Celsius (53F) and the sun had not yet reached us on the south-western face of the mountain. We each put in our ear buds, and set off with little ceremony or fanfare.
When you find yourself in sunshine this bright, it makes the past and the present feel like a dream. Was I ever in Chicago? Was it a regular -12C only a day or two ago? Now my legs are being whipped by a refreshing southerly. I dive into the cool blue waters of the Tasman Sea to emerge refresh, reenergised.
Chicago’s Navy Pier is a happening place in summer. Warm summer breezes straight off Lake Michigan, ice cream stands, Ferris wheel rides. But for me, there’s something so beautiful and haunting about visiting places that define summer near-abandoned in the winter time.