My days are most often filled with calm and contentment especially when it’s a day in the studio. The colors around Little Traverse Bay have been at a peak, and even while the gale winds of November arrive early and blow waves fifty feet into the air at the break-wall, the leaves on shore hang on for one more photo; for one more long lusty glare into the ebb of fall and incoming tide of winter. I went out on that very break-wall and stood for several minutes to feel the force of the wind and the drenching waves. So very exhilarating. My view from the studio is the same. I can watch the waves from a distance and write till my heart’s content before wandering home to make cocktails for the parlor and make dinner for the evening. The wind and the waves provide a reminder of Nature’s power; of the minuscule pieces of dust that we are within the ever-expanding Universe, and when in the studio, or at home, I feel grateful to be a part of it all. I worked on chapters of the new novel, today; helped a friend find a poem for a deceased father, and put finishing touches on the weekly blogs I write for various  groups. Today I sat in my blue leather pub chair with my feet up on the ottoman and did two crossword puzzles, and caught up on the local news. I don’t have internet – on purpose – so as not to get distracted, and I listen to classical music from WCMU on my little transistor radio. No joy is greater than to be in the confines of that studio knowing my time is my time. I would say I’m a lucky man, and I feel that way, but I also know what I’ve gone through in my life to be where I am. Living an authentic life with having everything I need within walking distance rounds out the promenade of a daily routine. A day in the studio is a divine reverence to a lost soul that was found again, and a thirsty mind with a place to quench the soul.