Perhaps it is all the smoke in the air, but I can't shake this mornings dream. It was a lovely dream. I was in a house overlooking Skaha (my favourite of the two lakes) in a big picture window. There was a canvas half painted with something or other and my hands were splattered with paint. I had a long sip of my coffee. And put it down on the glass table. There was a picture frame and I couldn't see the picture but I could see the large room in behind me. It was lovely. There were bookshelves lining the walls and a piano and instruments in the back ground. I woke up smiling. It was a wonderful dream. It makes me smile.
I grew up on an orchard overlooking Skaha. Living in the same place for twenty-odd years gives a chance for deep roots, and Skaha in the blood is strong.
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