Gerald Manley Hopkins must have loved the word "dappled." He often used a form of it in his poetry. I think of him when I walk the path around Rice University on a Sunday morning. The overhang of the trees creates the most impressive illustration of dappled light on the crushed stone. I am always transported to a less heavy place within my soul as I imagine hopscotching my way from light spot to light spot.
For those of you who don't know Rice's tree-lined splendors or the joy evoked when Houston's heat is traded for breezey bursts of actual cool-ness, I invite you for a visit.
And may you all be splashed with dapple drenched delights this day.