Gray skies cloud our view.
November’s cold. Fall’s turned old.
Still, we’re in the pink.
It’s not Italy’s Amalfi Coast, or California’s Pacific Coast Highway.
The flyover state of Minnesota is my home.
I rarely travel anymore.
And I’m not a wealthy woman.
Yet maybe I am.
My rusty Subaru and I hit the roads early yesterday at 5:30 a.m.
We had a 7:00 appointment with the morning sunrise just across the border in Wisconsin.
And we made it just in time.
My just reward was a warm slice of spinach quiche from a nearby bakery, with sugary Swedish donuts laced with cardamon for dessert.
As to the Subaru, it was treated to a fresh quart of oil at the gas station.
Opening the car door, I noticed I still had plenty of coins left in my pocket for the drive back.
It seems the best things in life are still free.
Well, almost anyway.