Made the long drive from home to the mountains of Big Bend yesterday. As we hurtled along Interstate 10, leaving Ozona heading toward Fort Stockton, we passed through many a road cut, deep dives if you care to look, at the millennia that have passed between then and now.

Went shopping yesterday. Did self-checkout. Left behind a loaf of bread. No idea how I managed that.

A big gust of wind woke me up last night. Maybe there was rain, too. The driveway is wet this morning. At any rate, I went back to sleep. Woke up at six. My new alarm time.

I spent a great weekend with the young grandkids in Houston. We sat on the couch. We cuddled. We talked. We watched TV. We went for long bike rides in the neighborhood.

I am home. A long road trip is in the books. Of course, for road warriors on active duty, that is, not retired, this is standard fair. And I sympathize.

Stood on the banks of the Rio Grande this morning. It is frozen nearly to the middle. The heavy grass crunched beneath my feet. I’m in Alamosa close to the river’s headwaters.

Bought a leather jacket on Thursday. It cost $10. It made me feel like a million. Found it at a thrift store in Alamosa. I saw it on the rack. Slipped it on in impulse.

I admit it. I have a bit of brain fog this morning. It’s a combination of long days and vino, or whiskey, or beer. Take your pick. And standing, and sitting, and listening to music.

The sun is rising over the San Luis Valley. An owl just drifted off from its perch on the house to hunt. The sun is rising over the distant mountains. We are on the third day of our journey.

Started our trip at 7 a.m. yesterday in Gruene. Finished it yesterday at 11 p.m. Mountain Time in Santa Fe. We were running from weather. It caught us outside Junction.

The kids are up. The mom is up. The grandpa is up. I think our children are sleep deprived. They all got two days off because the Pasadena schools were closed after the recent tornado tore through town roughing things up.

There’s a nip in the air and frost on the ground. It’s early but the day has fairly started. The trash can is out, the cats are fed, and there’s a load of wash going.

Good news. We got an inch of rain yesterday. Better news. The driveway repair held. The rain ran down the drive in torrents, turned right at the low side, and kept on going down the drain into the street.

One day in 1963 my journalism teacher suggested I contact the Houston Chronicle about becoming a stringer, covering high school football. I did. I got the job. That started a relationship with the Chronicle that lasted ten years.

There’s a bracing chill in the air this morning. The trash can was dutifully hauled to the street, and the cats fed. The latter’s dish was on the ground when I went out. a sure sign the raccoons were last to feed. I’ve encountered a possum or two, but raccoons bring families to the diner, and they’re boisterous.

Felt like I could fly yesterday. A bit. Got good news. The old AAA, my abdominal aortic aneurysm, is stable. No signs of leakage or growth.

Normally, when I visit my son no one is up when I get up. So, it’s quiet and I write in silence. This morning everyone is up. The dog has gone out to do it’s business twice. Coffee is being brewed. Conversations are flowing and I’m having a devil of a time concentrating.

Went for another walk through my little town yesterday. Spotted another house for sale. This was by owner. That makes two within two blocks of each other.

I had a good day on the golf course yesterday. I got invited to fill in a foursome. Mostly guys around my age, and older. We played best ball which meant all four of us hit and then we played the best shot.

The full moon is coming. I like full moons. It came to my attention last night. I woke at an early hour and noticed the pasture bathed in soft light.