A Little about A Lot

I was asked today if I considered myself a writer.

I really don't know how to answer that question.  I consider myself a person who writes.  I write often, though not often particularly well; I write with candor and passion, but that candor and passion leads frequently to utterly incoherent passages; I write with love.

I love writing.

So there's that.  And here is this-

The same person who asked if I considered myself a writer also offered me the following opportunities throughout this most lovely of days:  I saw three bald eagles.  I found a mountain range who has become the newest of my dearest loves.  I turned my face to the Alaskan summer sun and basked it in.  I sat back to back with a man whose intellect and experience I am growing very much to respect.

The Range is either Sunrise Mountain or Hope Point.. or potentially that ridge which runs between the two.  Regardless- she is an old soul and hers connected with mine in an inexplicably profound way.  If all mountains have personalities, and they do, hers is the gentle friend.

And to all my other gentle friends-

Until next time.