Nice sunny day. Early autumn. Sitting at a picnic table in a little city park among cottonwood trees that were probably well grown before my eyes opened on the world. Reading a good book -- a very good book -- that I happened across just last week. By an author who has already had a place in my library.
Slow reading. Several fillings of my pipe. Mindfulness. Second quiet realization.
* * *
And I am reminded of this, too.