Down toward the end of the lake a man was flinging some kind of grain into the air as ducks and geese dove and flapped around him, honking and squawking. When his bag was empty, he too disappeared into the mist, leaving the birds to fight over the food.
It seems like I am so often running late to wherever I'm going. I am tense and anxious, creeping through traffic or frantically searching for a better, faster route. How many beautiful sights and lovely moments have I missed in my distracted hurry? How many times have I arrived breathless and flustered? Not today. I got to enjoy a few minutes of misty morning in Westmoreland Park.
And I arrived at Gerrie's right on time.