Since returning from Alaska, I’ve been running again, including a few morning runs that were definitely worth battling the cobwebs.

Here’s a shot looking northeast along the river from just shy of the bridge.

And a view from the bridge.

Here’s a shot from Truslow Road, unremarkable except by contrast.

A moment later, the sun erupted over the horizon.

It may lack the rolling old mountains of my formative years and the thick wooded acres where I long to disappear, but one could do far worse than spending a decade (or more) along the Chester River on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.