I love to travel, and I love to come home. I believe I've said that on this blog before, but that's okay, I'm saying it again. This morning, jetlag having not yet packed up and moved out of my brain, I was awake by 4:30, out of bed by 5, and down by the river by 6:30. I'd have gone earlier, but it was still dark, and this IS New York...

The sun as it rose was almost the same golden color it gets in the afternoons down there, but facing the other way. A juvenile cormorant fished right near me, energetic but coming up empty each time. Two entire flocks of sparrows raced by overhead. Also racing by was an astonishing herd of runners, considering the hour. One of those long slow waves that happen without explanation -- no boat to cause a wake, no gust of wind -- rolled slowly in, absolutely parallel with the seawall, hit it, and rolled out again to the middle of the river. The river glowed deeply blue under the cloudless sky. If you have to stop traveling and come home eventually, this isn't a bad place to come home to.