On the way home.

It seems that time slips through my fingers these days.
I love the early start and the quietness as the sun rises.
I love being by myself.
I love watching the leaves blowing in the garden.
I love the soft remembering of my parents - of old friends , of home , of goodness.

Precious time ...and then the list of things to be done steals the peace , changes the pace and suddenly it is night. Another day gone.

On the way home I stopped here, just along from the house, watching the clouds on fire .