I'm not sure what to write about today. I've been especially anxious lately, which means being good to myself boils down to repeatedly reminding myself that I am not, in fact, a crazy person, no matter how much I feel that way. This happens every month and even knowing that, I still feel helpless to it. Though it's gotten better in recent years, remembering to breathe, it grabs me by the throat.

There is a lot I could write about this - anxiety (or more poetically madness, as I like to call it sometimes) tends to make me write, to try and get it out of me. But this blog isn't about that, it is about trying to live well.

This weekend, C.T. and I finally went to Teddy Roosevelt Island, something we had been planning for weeks but never managed to do. It's not quite an escape from the city - the noises of the highway are never quite out of earshot - though it's still nice to be surrounded by trees. At the center of the island stands a memorial to good ole Teddy, as well as some stone tablets inscribed with Inspirational Things about manhood and youth and the state. Map in pocket, we set off on what turned out to be the swamp trail, which was fairly empty. (I've got to admit, that does sound the least appealing of all the options: the woods and upland trails being the others.)

The emptiness turned out to be a boon - we saw dozens of salamanders skitter on and off the wooden walkway, two male deer crunching in the swamp grass, and even a heron, perched on a branch off in the distance. After so long in Florida, I am still finding ways to enjoy summer, mostly in the beauty of green leaves filtering the sunlight streaming through behind them.

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