Mom patted me on the shoulder and said to the aide: ‘He’s a good boy.’  I turned 71 last week and I’m a good boy.  Well, Mom is 94.

This ‘boy’ doesn’t walk as fast as he used to and that’s good.  The faster you walk the more you have to treat the rest of the stuff in the world as potential obstacles to be avoided.  Walking slower, moseying, means you can see what else is there and perhaps appreciate it more.

One’s eyes don’t have to be old to see what is nearby though.  I ran into a librarian friend of mine this morning who had a young teen-age girl with her.  While we were talking the girl spotted a dead mole and a six inch garter snake and who knows what else within a six foot radius of where we were standing.  My friend tells me the girl is interested in photography.  She indeed has a good eye.

The cycle of the year is approaching its last quarter and if the year is aging it doesn’t appear to be slowing down.  We have defined time in an objective way in hours, minutes and seconds counted off by an atomic clock.  But the experience of time is anything but objective.  It does seem that days rush past faster as we get older but walking more slowly helps bring a bit more sanity to it.

And we can see more interesting stuff.

It’s a time for wondering.