i blinked and the equinox was here.

location: inside, mostly. the actual trail has been more rumor than reality. conditions: dusk arriving earlier every day, grass going gold, bikes getting colder by the day. energy level: guilty. monitor-tanned.

summer apparently happened. i saw it out the window between meetings. it looked nice.

what did i actually do with it? worked. watched my bikes and paddle board wait in the corner, collecting dust and what i can only describe as quiet judgment. my computer got all my best hours, my best light, my best energy. it did not say thank you.

the dogs and my husband got a few walks, a handful of sunsets, and three bonfires if i’m being generous with the math. most weeks it was “just one more thing” on the screen instead of “just one more trail.” the screen always won. the screen does not get tired, does not have plans, does not have a body that needs to be outside or it starts to go a little strange.

mine does.

what i noticed

it’s not a crisis. it’s just the slow, specific regret of choosing logins over laces, repeatedly, across a whole season, until suddenly it’s september and the grass is gold and you’re pale in a way that has nothing to do with sunscreen.

i’m not getting younger. these dogs aren’t either. the mountains are fine; they’ll outlast all of us. but this particular version of us, with these particular dogs, in this particular window of being able to go — that one has an expiration date i keep forgetting about.

we made it up to mackay once. chased sparks and dusk and the kind of quiet that doesn’t have a notification sound. it could’ve been a monthly thing. it was barely a seasonal thing. that’s the part that sits.

tiny adjustments

dog daylight. trail daylight. any daylight that isn’t filtered through a screen and called “good enough.”

less “just one more thing” after i’ve already decided i’m done. the inbox will still be there. it is always still there. it has never once not been there.

tomorrow: shoes on before inbox open. non-negotiable, or at least aspirational, which for now is close enough.

field note filed. autumn’s here. maybe this season gets more miles and less mail.