Walking through the grove this morning, the wind whipped through the trees, paused, and changed direction. It reminded me of those Butler Island mornings when the choppy lake sends waves beating on the shore at regular intervals, and the sound is omnipresent. The predictable whoosh of those waves or of this wind soothes me like the patter of rain.
What a blessing, to be transported to that little island on Lake Champlain by a sound and a memory. Peace. I let the feeling wash over me and fill me up.
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