I woke up to a perfect day.
Positively perfect. (Even Harley agreed, saying it was Paws-itively Purr-fect for creatures too.
The birds were singing their mating calls, not a manmade sound around. The rising sun hid demurely behind an overcast sky. Sheer baby blues played peek a boo with the cotton ball clouds. Rains from the night before left nature freshly washed with a soft dewy look.
Morning has broken.
I am the luckiest person alive.
Life is good.
I am oh so grateful. All my needs have been met with extra to share.
My project home is my pride and joy, my little old wheel estate. Built in 1994, she is still coasting along.
I think like native American Indians. You can not own the land. It is for everybody and nobody. But still I pay rent hither and yonder or work my keep to have a little plot to park my abode.