The Island was shrouded in shadows last week. The way it sometimes is in early April. The dark clouds matched my mood. Going through my parents house I see an accumulation of a lifetime. My mother tells me that she has assigned the artwork in the house to each of us girls - I get St. Rita who is knitting wool directly off the back of a sheep. So appropriate. We collect things but one day these will be gone - divided - and a lifetime of what was important is dissected into that which is kept and that which is discarded. These thoughts disturb me and make me twitchy, I wish I had brought my running stuff with me.