Along a route I typically walk stands an enormous, old tree. It’s apparent from its size that it had been spared the axe-driven fate of most trees on this mill owner’s property of century’s ago. The tree is wider, taller, and far more imposing than any other nearby. One cannot help but notice its massive…
How does life survive when the clouds refuse to deliver rain?
I once heard a teacher describe the way in which older children apply the benefit of experience to their lessons, allowing them to understand what was said, even if they didn’t hear every word. I recently stumbled upon an example. I knew what the sign said even though more than half of it was missing….
This is the time of year when it’s common to walk the shoreline instead of the woods. Whether alone or with friends, leisurely or vigorously, I find that the patterns and colors in this alternate scenery always invigorates my creative self. Yes, I’m still walking, and I hope you are, too.
Long walks have combined with a shortage of time these busy days. I’ve missed a bunch of posts, and yes, there are days when my schedule prevents me from getting outside. But when that happens, I compensate the next day by letting myself linger. That’s when the spring beauty prevents me from coming back in.
This has been a year of abnormalities. Christmas Eve 2015 was warm, even hot by winter’s standards. The first day of spring was cold, which is not so unusual except that the blooms were set to explode after a late-winter heat wave. Now, the Virginia bluebells, having flowered early, had to deal with an accumulation…
The loveliest part of my walk through the pre-rain scene this morning was its sound. At first I could not hear or feel the seemingly phantom breeze, but I could see it pushing through last year’s leaves, the ones that still clung to the birch trees; and I could see it move a few of…
Hikers yield to horses; bicycles yield to both horses and hikers; horses yield to no one. Doesn’t seem quite fair, does it? Especially when coupled with the fact that hikers and cyclists–at least the good ones anyway–don’t poop on the path. 🙁
Yesterday my husband joined me on my walk after work (a benefit of the spring time change). While on the road, we got to meet a neighbor.
To the careless owner who let his or her blue barrel wash down the creek I say, “Too bad; it’s mine now.”