Beginnings

Edge of what, I hear you ask.

Um.

All kinds of things spring to mind. 

Reason. Time. The confines of my mind.

Well, we shall find out.

Also, it strikes me that the edge of anything must be the verge of something else. That is quite a thought.

Mostly it feels like the edge of the world.

A good place to be probably.

If I lean one way, I can be part of it.

If I lean the other I can duck out of it altogether.
I took the divine duo for a walk down on the headland yesterday. (The divine duo are, not surprisingly, my dogs.) Standing on the edge of the rough, springy grass down there, the wide Atlantic stretches in front of you. Acres of possibility. Hectares of grey - or blue - or white.

Unmeasurable amounts of sky and water. Or loneliness. Or freedom.

It depends on which way you look at it. And that all depends on the day.

Yesterday was blue and bright, optimism rising in the east, piggy-backing on sunshine.

I've noticed that - it's very lazy, optimism. If it can hitch a ride, it puts in an appearance. If it can't, it often doesn't bother.

We need to provide more vehicles for it. In fact, it would be well worth the cost of a cab every day.

Don't you think?

Well, there's a cab.

I'll be honest - that's not my headland. I took that picture a few miles up the coast - but hey, it's all out there.

Unbelievably, the sun is shining again today! Bit of a rarity, in these parts it seems.

Meanwhile, the divine duo are sighing heavily in their beds. The worst has happened. 

The morning is almost over and they haven't been to the headland - or anywhere else.

They haven't even had their breakfast yet.

Is life worth living?