Walking along the old Pennsylvania mill streams this time of year, I often find myself engaged in a childish treasure hunt, one better than any Easter egg hunt I’ve ever experienced. Golf balls. Left behind after the spring floods recede, they lodge like stones in the mounds of silt. Yesterday, I found seven within the…
Could it be? Is this really the last of the winter’s snow? April brings that uncertainty, the feeling that I’ve almost made it, excitement tinted with caution. I can’t let my guard down yet.
Today is the day I’ve been waiting for. It’s finally spring. According to the U.S. Naval Observatory, the 2017 spring equinox officially begins at 10:29 this morning. I’m hoping to take a break from my inside commitment to step outside and absorb the first light of my favorite season. You?
Gasp! There’s color. My mind needed a moment to confirm that my eyes had not tricked it. But yes, four times in the past week I found life unfolding once again. Each splash was an invigorating surprise. Meanwhile, tomorrow promises a foot of wind-driven snow. These springtime pioneers, having bravely entered the late-winter frontier, will…
I do like trails. They’re convenient. They reduce trampling. And they keep you from getting lost.
It was sunny when we left. It was sunny when we returned. In the hour between, my friend and I watched perpetual change unfold.
The routine on this day was less about getting out for a walk and more about refueling with the energy from the sun.
Of all the place-based cultures, the American Indian’s comes to mind as one in tune with the energy, rhythm, and spirit of a particular place. Through stories, the wise help others decipher the present feelings that come when standing in proximity to the past.
I know I SHOULD. I’ve been told I SHOULD. All the opportunities in the world won’t change the fact that it’s up to me to go.
During a mid-day solstice walk, I contemplated the irony of December 21st.