Perhaps you are getting tired by now of posts that feature photos of my early morning runs. If so, I completely understand. How many photos of low light on the water can a person be expected to endure? And yet, with due respect to your feelings and full awareness that I might displease you, I feel compelled to submit the latest batch.

There was something exquisite in the Sunday morning air.

The world was a muddle of sunshine and haze, as if trying to decide what kind of day it would be .

Tiny clouds hovered just above the surface of the river.

The air was its own filter, bending the light and creating a sense of days past.

And the streets were absolutely empty.

For sake of contrast, here’s a shot from the other end of the day, as the sun set over mom’s backyard.

I still dream of old mountains and rocky coastlines, but I have to admit that I’d miss this river.