Slower

I took The Walk That Ate Venice. Six hours, twelve miles, saw it all. Took the streets, the piazzas, up and down the ancient stairs. Really cool stairs. But now it's Sunday. Take the Slow boat. A two-minute vacation in a different time and place. Just Press Play.

The leaves are starting to show those washed out, late summer army camouflage colors. Better washed out than fallen, I guess. But not as good as bright and colorful. Press Play. Slow Forward to a brilliant start for a Sunday.

I love my tulips and daffodils. And I'm always relieved and delighted when the first crocuses and grape hyacinths pop up, sometimes in the snow. But the irises, they're really fascinating. So many little details in each flower. I can just sit and stare. So press Play and stare for a minute. It's Sunday. Make believe.

Ain't no cure for this. The last Sunday of summer, the last blueberries. I just took off the bird nets and picked every last berry. Look at them. Just for a minute. They're beautiful. Press Play.

The coast of Maine looks like this. Sun's up, but not clearly. A slow, careful walk on the rocks while the fog burns off. The last day of vacation. Every minute counts. Take a break. Press Play for a really short vacation.

Take a break. One minute to look at something weird and beautiful. Just press Play. I wish I could be like these guys for a little while. I just saw them at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park. They're downstairs, in the coolest aquarium you've ever seen.

Thought you might like to join me here. I'm part way through The Walk That Ate San Francisco. The part where you have a picnic on Baker Beach. The waves are coming in slowly - about the pace of long, slow breaths. Press play. Two minutes to breathe deeply and get ready for your Sunday.

I thought about the totally weird and beautiful skyline of New Mexico's Tent Rocks National Monument while I walked down the suddenly and strangely magical Park Avenue last Saturday when it was a 3-mile pedestrian mall.

There's a small beach on California's Big Sur coast that's unmarked, unnamed and unvisited. Nobody goes there. If you do, it's your private beach. When you get there, for real, it's like a fantasy. Press play and fantasize for 90 seconds. Slowly.