Walking

I've been having trouble signing in through our family-shared computer at home.  Sorry about the long silences.

I decided to start walking every day, preferably twice a day.  Re-decided would be a more accurate statement.  I decide these sorts of things and then, to no one's surprise, they don't happen.  For some bizarre, reason, though, I re-decided, put on my walking shoes, asked if anyone wanted to come along, and then I went out.

I had one taker.  The sun hadn't quite set, but it was heading toward the horizon fast.  Fireworks had already started to boom and pop in the distance, but around us the people who were home waited for dark.  The boy and I went up the road a short distance and then turned on one of those rural roads where you never know what you're going to see around the next bend or over the steep hill that would make a great sledding slope if it wasn't so darned dangerous.

We talked, and I huffed and puffed and did a bit of rue-ing but mostly I loved listening about the boy's friends and school and life.  We startled a deer, and then snuck up on it.  It's not a real sneaking up, but if you startle a deer, generally they don't go very far.  They'll find someplace where they have enough room to run and see and set themselves at a 90 degree angle to you and listen.  And wait.  The boy saw her first, and moved me so I could see her through the narrow opening in the brush where she stood, both of her huge ears open to us, her large, dark eyes focused toward us but perfectly capable of seeing almost 360 degrees around her.

We also tried to spot birds.  I wanted to get another look at an indigo bunting.  I could hear them everywhere, but despite being brilliant blue, they're tough to see.

The experience inspired me to get out early and walk again this morning.  Scared the same bunny twice--he came out to eat miner's lettuce on the edge of the road.  When I get home, I'll have dinner, put my feet up, and then before I sink too far down into cushiony, weary bliss, I intend to go out and walk again.  And again tomorrow.  Always again, because I love it.  I'd forgotten that.