Walking for the Mail

Our mailbox is almost half a mile from our house. It’s a lovely walk, in the morning especially.Even today, with the mist is hanging low and a dog or coyote is howling mournfully a ways off. The roads - our long driveway and the lane it flows from are private, dirt paths, framed with ferns and trees and blackberries. We pass four driveways on the walk, only two with houses in direct sight the rest are farther back. It’s late summer, I can pick goldenrod, daisies, and a small, rugged-looking white flower on the way.

I came back with mail! A letter from my sister, whose letters are always a joy.