Sunday

It's a cool, blustery Memorial Day weekend.  The howling wind is making the branches of the sturdy pines outside my window dance like feathers.   Tin garbage can lids are scurrying across the asphalt,  clickity clank, like in an eerie movie from the '40s.   In other parts of the country the beginning of summer is celebrated with a trip to the beach, tank tops and BBQs, but in LA it feels like just another beautiful spring day.  I started the day with a vigorous yoga class, and after months away from the mat, I'm enjoying the reconnection.  My limbs feel stronger, my spirits higher.  Yoga is my church, a glorious way to end the week.  Sweaty and I'm sure a little smelly I met a friend and her beautiful daughter at the farmer's market.  We sampled tart cherries and juicy plums, the taste of summer's promise.  While for some this holiday will usher in a period of relaxation and a break from work, I'm anticipating the opposite and embracing the adventure.