Saturday, March 27, 2010

The Walk

   Today I went for a stroll.  Now you can come along too!  
I couldn't leave without filling up on a good old PB&J.  After apples and hot chocolate,  PB&J's rank in my top list of comfort foods ( followed successively by clementines, gummy vitamins, and OJ).
It's such a beautiful day!   Buds are blooming every which way, and the landscape wavers precariously between a soggy sort of Autumn, and a premature Spring.
Even the topiary looks especially green!  I never would have thought I would be the neighbor with the spirally topiaries in their yard.  I guess I'm redefining myself.
Onward.
As I leave our neighborhood, I  consider the robot veterans who appear to have escaped their gated community mothership.
Mail's been low lately.  I'm simply terrible with snail mail, but at least I have The Week magazine to look forward to... every week, in fact.
Looking both ways...
Yet several cars are honking quite agressively at me.  What am I doing wrong??

I distance myself from the drivers, and step into a more fielded pathway.  Deer tracks abound! 

I'm lost in thought until suddenly I hear squelching beneath my feet. Looks like I've run into some flooding, whatever could be the cause?

I locate the stream and track it straight to the source:
An exposed pipe! 
As I move into rougher territory, the grasses scratch my legs.  I jump as cats and birds leap from under me, yowling and screeching.
Do Not Enter sign?  Great, let's cross right here.

As the woods thicken...
I reach my destination.
It's a lonely park.
But one that is full with artistic potential. The yellow moss was simply inspiring, and I must return!
But for now I wave goodbye.
And commence the trek back home.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Chasing Spring

          Something about the recent high of 75, and the humidity settling in the air drew my mind back to warm memories from exactly a year ago.
          I think the air holds the same essence of Spring with no regard to location.  I'd like to believe that I could smell Spring on any end of the earth-a theory I'm willing to investigate.
         First I'd breathe in the rainstorms and sunshine right here.  As the sun grazed my shoulders, I would crinkle the spongy greenery beneath my toes.  And as the world tilted, I'd cross the globe and observe the sun ushering in exotic flowers and waking brilliant butterflies.  My escape from September. 
          I'd even chase Spring all the way to icy Alaska.  It would take patience, but as the snow penetrated deeply,  a whole kingdom of green would work its way up.  Fields of flora and fauna,  nourished through frozen opposition. 
          Before I knew it, I would be in the middle of it all.  On my back,  feeling the cushioning grasses, taking in smell of the air, the plants, the sun and the water. But not long before I'm running, slipping, and sliding. Pursuing the breeze, and the bumblebees, for it's a game of tag with Spring. 
          And as I gulp the crisp air, I am heady and alive. The sky is so light it could lift me up, and so blue it is an ocean; I am swimming beneath.

         If only I could always chase Spring.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

Impressive

Wondering just how to catch the eye of that special lady?  Stanford Montgomery, 4 year old in residence has the answer.

... Don a leopard suit?

Approved!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

New Girl

Today I can feel how much my mood has been lifted because of a few simple things.
A cheerfully loaned pen in seminary... an acquaintance babbling to me about their weekend... a conversation in history class... talking to someone new...a smile in the library...a thoughtful comment.
I took a new girl to her first class the other day. 
I asked her where she came from, why she was here, what it was like where she came from, what she thought about it here.  How could I not?
I remember what it was like, the feeling of those painful first weeks is still raw.
But I can now testify with a greater understanding of the healing power of a smile, a question, and an invitation.

A simple gesture means everything.