When we have under twenty miles to get to the gates of Acadia Park we still stop in the shade when Nice (the dog) decides it is time.
When I passed the last blooms of roses wilting on their stems, I still stopp to smell the roses. The first wiffs of spring as good as these in the Maine summer.
When I'm tired I sleep.
When I'm hungry I eat.
When I, you know, I do.