I woke up this morning and after journaling the dream I had last night, I rolled out of bed and padded across the living room floor to go outside and stand on the balcony and take a look at the dawning day. The unexpected gift of the morning was a strong and cool breeze blowing through the courtyard. It was very quiet except for the rustle of the wind in the trees. All of the other apartments, save one down at the far end of the courtyard, were dark and silent. Birds were just starting to sing their morning songs.
I just stood there for a while, leaning against the rail of the patio, listening, watching, and feeling the morning unfolding. After the heat of the last couple of days it was a welcome morning, with the temperature down to a sweet 62 degrees. It will climb back up in the eighties today, but the eighties are fine temperature wise.
So now, I am sitting here, drinking my morning coffee, with the radio turned on so it is soft and low, all the windows open, and a cool wind swirling in and dancing around my apartment.
I am trying to place the voice of the woman in the dream. In the dream it was a voice I knew, that I had that sense of knowing, but now as I move into the day, it tickles at the back of my mind. It was a voice that was both bright and soft, with an accent, and an underlying gentleness. Ah well, it will return to me, or I will hear someone's voice and know it again.
It is Friday, so work should be nice and quiet, perhaps even productive and then I will slip into the weekend. The Los Altos Art & Wine Festival is this weekend, and I will be heading up there, currently planning on Sunday. If tomorrow dawns cool again, I might try and make my much delayed trip to the coast on Saturday. I've planned to go for the last three weekends, but always found something intervening - not good, not bad, just intervening.
Meanwhile, let me savor the unexpected gift of the cool wind swirling through my little corner of the world.
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