Nothing Happens...

Funny. It turns out our days of drifting, floating, cruising, basically, goofing off, are our best days. Yesterday, brilliant sunshine ruled. We spent the afternoon out on the lakefront path. We went for a long meandering bike ride, then we decamped to our "sun-spot," setting out a blanket on the lush green expanse of grass, fronting a looming monolith of stone and glass. It is a very private place facing a very public path. We sipped cold drinks and talked about all the things of the world. There were great moments of silence too. Blue skies, puffy, rolling, clouds. Humans of all shapes and sizes passing by on the pathway. The big city, 30 miles away, visible on the horizon-line of the lake. Those massive towers like little tinker-toys, wrapped in wispy, misty fog. We like to call it "The Emerald City." It turns out that the days where nothing really happens are the days when everything happens.