December 23, 2025
Evening Reflections
Flyby Before the Rain…
Venice Beach | Gray skies, Pegleg, and the sweetest chaos before the storm:
Tonight, the sky wore shades of winter—soft gray, endless, and quiet. There was no blazing sunset to steal the show, but Venice had a different kind of magic ready for me.
At first, I saw Pegleg. My favorite one-legged muse, perched like he owns the shoreline. The moment he spotted me, the signal went out—an unspoken text message carried on the wind. Within seconds, his friends came dropping in from every direction, wings swirling in circles, a joyful flyby before the rain.
The beach was nearly empty. No footsteps but mine, no distractions but feathers and ocean breath. It’s one of my favorite feelings in the world—being the only one on the sand, held in the quiet company of birds who always show up, who always remember me.
And then—pure joy entered the frame. A dog came sprinting down the shoreline, tail wagging like a flag of happiness. He wasn’t just running… he was celebrating. The kind of unfiltered bliss that makes you believe the world is still soft and playful. He chased the birds alongside me, a willing participant in the wild, chaotic choreography of wings and paws.
Watching him, I felt it too—that same spark. The excitement of movement, of presence, of being alive in a moment that asks nothing from you except your awareness and your heart.
Rain is coming. The birds know it. The dog feels it. And somehow, so do I. But tonight wasn’t about endings or storms—it was about togetherness before the change. About community. About flybys of love. About laughter in the form of wings, wind, and a dog who reminded me how to run toward joy.
So, no sunset tonight. No problem.
Venice still gave me a flyby before the rain, and it was perfect in every way.
With gratitude,
April
Inspire by April
Capturing Beauty, Sharing Light
Evening Gratitude Thought:
When the shore goes quiet, gratitude gets loud. No sunset tonight—just a silver sky and a soft hush across the sand. I’m grateful for moments that don’t need to shout to be extraordinary. For birds who circle like old friends, for the ocean that holds every secret, and for the simple joy of being the only human on the beach, besides the birds of course. And for the dog who ran toward happiness so fast he made the world blur with joy for a second. May we all remember to sprint toward delight like that—with abandon, with trust, with wonder. The rain will come and wash the shore clean, but tonight already felt like a cleansing of the heart. Thank you, Venice. Thank you, birds. Thank you, joy.
