We celebrated the birthday of my youngest son and middle child yesterday. I gave him a set of swivel sockets and custom seat covers, then we grilled steaks and ate that with Parmesan encrusted green beans courtesy of HEB, and fresh cucumbers.

Life it’s mundane self. This morning, in the dark, I fed the cats, rolled the trash can to the curb, and walked around looking at the trees.

I started down a path this morning with my writing, but about a paragraph in I stopped and turned around. I deleted those words, and even shut off the computer.

I had a thrill this morning. I’m on the road. Woke up as I usually do at 5:30. Jumped out of bed, turned on the light, and opened my computer bag. No laptop.

A day of running and jumping is in the books. The granddaughter finished ninth in the long jump, her 4X100 team finished 11th and missed the finals, but her 4X400 finished third and will run again today.

We got more rain yesterday morning, but it slacked off early and stayed partly cloudy. We got right at sixth tenths of an inch over the last two days. Not a record setting rain, but useful.

I was in Fredericksburg yesterday when the clouds opened up and the bottom dropped out.

I was asked yesterday if I was an artist. I instinctively said, no. Then thought, wait, I’m a writer. Maybe that counts.

Well, let’s see what part of my psyche I’d like to explore today. No turmoil to speak of, although I wish the wind would stop blowing. Seriously, what’s the rush? Where’s it going in such a hurry?

It was a wet rainy day by the river, but in a year of drought and burn bans, a wet rainy day by the river is still a good day.

It’s a gray morning on the river, but any morning on the river is a good morning and it’s supposed to clear up later today, so all is not lost.

Easter. We tend to think of it as a single day, Sunday, but it’s actually a multi-day, multi-week contemplation of death and resurrection.