Time is more fluid on the road. Some days we are early birds, others we are lounge lizards. Our mornings are not a pristine Instagram photo. We crumple on the bed, drink tea, rise in stages. Hounds stretch & wander & return to snooze. We share last night’s dreams. I do yoga then maybe swim in the mountain river engorged by yesterday’s wild & electric storms that skittered across slate-grey skies. We have returned to bright green landscapes and towering grey rock faces. Every day is a unique flower unfolding before us. Living is slow. Meaning is given over to the trees, the road & the rain.