Somewhere Out There
After work yesterday, I snuck off to the lake for the afternoon, hung out with my family, ate dinner, drank a bottle of wine, did pull-ups outside while it rained, went to bed early, and woke up at 4:00 AM to make it back to Charlottesville in time to open the coffee shop. It was one of those fast, quiet things in my life that mean so much to me when they're over.
Sending more things home from Charlottesville.
Brother with a haircut, home for the summer.
Red, red wine.
We love artichokes.
The sun came up this morning while I was driving over Afton Mountain, and I was reminded of something I said on a road trip almost five years ago., which was "I don't know how someone can look at all of this and not believe in God."
I have since become less judgmental and absolute in my beliefs, but as I turned off at the edge of the highway, I looked across the valley and felt something. The mountains, the pink light coming up from behind them, the unknown purpose of life, the hope in spite of everything else--I guess that's what they call sublimity. You can stand alone, but you're not alone.
"Five years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a sweet inland murmur.--Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
Which on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky."
--From William Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey