I'll settle for this.

Sophie sits in the garden and watches the sunrise over the bales of hay.

Four oil rigs out in the bay this morning. Their lights glowing like giant Christmas trees  on the horizon. 

We've been up early talking to Manhattanites and the super smart Los Angeleans  about Russia and Ukraine. Sophie, very sensibly, has slept through the metaphorical gloom with her chin resting on my foot. Every so often she flips inelegantly on her back and snores. 

It's going to be one of those perfect northern days when the air is clear and the sun warm. The seals are out in the sea breakfasting on the thick shoals of fish that swim up and down the coast. From time to time a solitary seal pops its head up through the swell. There's something comical about seals. A dozen cormorants stand, in a group, on a rock drying their wings. Sophie ignores them all. She has voles on her mind.

We used to have two large pigeons that called the garden their home. A pile of feathers tells us a local hawk has done for one of them during the night. The remaining pigeon looks somewhat forlorn.

So starts a glorious October Wednesday morning with a happy Polish Lowland Sheepdog in a small Scottish village where nothing ever happens. In a turbulent world I'll happily settle for this. Finished the Maggie Haberman book last night. Left me wondering what a second term would look like. Vengeful ?