Grateful . . .

I never grow tired of this view. I moved to the Peninsula in the early 1980s. When I empty nested, I migrated north for a time, but this grandeur always pulled me back to its resplendence. I've walked these beaches and cliffs with my children and friends, family and in solitude more times than I can tell you. I fished Cook Inlet for ten plus years pulling shrimp and crab, halibut and salmon and various rockfish from its waters.  

Last night a friend and I met at the gazebo that overlooks this sight. We strolled the bluff in the evening sun chatting just as we have done for more than thirty years. We stopped in at the Senior Center, whose wall of windows looks out over this splendor, and we listened to Ole Timers play music that is unfamiliar to me. A gentleman in a wheelchair approached and invited us to move in closer with the crowd. 

We are on the cusp of winter; leaves are turning, the temperature is cooling and darkness comes earlier on the clock. But even covered in white, this place takes my breath away. Whatever conditions the weather presents and no matter the state my life seems, whether peaceful or challenging, I am grateful to be a part of such beauty.