Strange thing about these interwebs: There’s something to the way that they demand noise, chatter, stuff. Mind you, some are better than others about writing intelligently and cogently about the world and life, but I’m not one of them (this being little more than chatter).
But even so: A short ride this afternoon up to Barnsdall Park to read and wonder at people. A breeze in off the water, the washed light of winter, rosemary blossoms nodding to themselves. Green is slowly beginning to drape itself over the hills of Griffith Park, and deep clouds east, out up to the steep ridge of the San Gabriels.
An easy day to bike and smile, shiver at the unexptected chill.