Walking in the woods steadies us, reminds us of our place in the continuum, and of just how little it takes to make us happy.
We expected yellow violets today, and we found them blooming in the leaf litter, soaking up the sunlight before the crowns fill in.
The pale blue will be next to show themselves along the path, then the purple thick in the field, and the white along the treeline where the limbs hang over the old plowline.
Today we do not bother with names and classifications, with common, threatened, or endangered. Today they are all precious. As are the Maypoles rising, and the trees gaining color in their crowns, and the wind in them, and the crow overhead, and the sun on our skin.
Towhees arrived today. Peepers will sing tonight. The pace accelerates.
At the ballpark last night we were part of 30,000 cheering a walk-off single. Then we drove home into the mountains and were thrilled again by the natural dark of the night and its satin feel under the constellations.
This morning, on the path to the cabin, we hear an ovation of another sort. It comes from deep within us, or is it from deep within the universe, and is there a difference?
copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved
