There’s something to be said about walking a canopied path, one with an unknown terminus. I hear the dutiful mower off in the unmeasured distance and the inescapable traffic humming from another planet. Birds without cipher, and the gentle waterfall of the creek. I walk barefoot on the path. I am more than willing to accept the bite of an unexpected pebble. Descending into the creek, I let the energetic minnows nibble and dart at my feet. My feet toughen perennially with the inevitable warmth. As I stood in the creek today, I watched a snake rhythmically approach me. I stood motionless to avoid disturbing it or drawing its attention. In a moment of mindless forgetfulness, I reached into the creek to pick up a beautiful flat stone, forgetting my Fitbit watch on my wrist. Luckily, nature and technology called a truce. A woman and her blue-silver eyed German Shepherd came down to the creek bottom so that the dog could drink and frolic. He nuzzled my hand as I stood in water that was only a foot deep. He thanked me by splashing and shaking the water from his coat as he moved away. The solitude was refreshing, but I wish I could have had a hand near me, attached to someone listening to me pointing excitedly at what probably seems like mundane nature. For a while out there, there were moments I didn’t even have my own voice in my head.
Love, X
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