Gray skies

Gray skies cloud our view.
November’s cold. Fall’s turned old.
Still, we’re in the pink.

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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.