Bye, Leif! Travel home safely.

We've had a peaceful two weeks: easy walks, long talks, playfulness and laughter, photographs, good food, a birthday, some writing, some naps, some reading. We got out some old pictures of us when we were six and seven, us when we first met, when our bodies were so supple we weren't even aware we had them. We were on fire with being alive. We were weightless to ourselves, all muscle and bone and drive.

Today, more than sixty years later, we sat on a bench by a Birch-bark Cherry tree and talked about how much there is to love. Even if we put our whole hearts into loving everything we possibly can for every moment we have left, we won't have enough time. What if this is our only job now: to love this world, love it and learn about it, listen to it and take pictures of it, love the people and the trees, the bugs and the animals, the music and the books, the weeds and the sky, the buildings, the stones and the sea: hurl our whole lives at loving it, with all our force. What if that's all anybody ever has to do? (Apart from the necessity to support oneself and one's loved ones, of course. For some people work might be a way to love the world.)

A few more pictures are here.