BERRIES AND HORNETS, BUGS AND SLUGS, BUTTERFLIES AND BEES AND ALL MANNER OF THINGS

It was a bit different. Not as hot. I would say it was the perfect weather. The days before were oppressive. The clouds, picaresque, full, waited and watched. I pulled into the end of the street, where the forest begins, and waited a moment to see where the untraveled way would be. That is where I would go. There are there about five different directions you can go in. One older guy was waiting and telling people that on Saturday night at 5:30 P.M. his wife’s car was broken into. I could hear him tell his story. They smashed the windows and took her purse, - and it was even hidden under the back seat. He said that he did see a guy who looked like he didn’t belong, even as a walker, and realizes he might have been casing the place. He relayed that the man looked really hideous and was smirking, and that he was in a light brown or beige old van. He said that the van had an advertisement on it, a designation for some company or trade, but he could not remember what and he wished he had the wherewithal to get the plate numbers. I could see he was upset. 

 

I soon made my way. I went up and around the far edge, - the opposite of where I usually go. There were a lot of people going near my regular route. I was gladdened almost right off, - because it was quiet, a bit mystical there under the shade with a quiet breeze not too loud or calm coming through the trees. I saw some wildflowers and the mosquitoes seemed not to be out in armies. It’s because there was not much rain or moisture, - and there, - they thrive in the bogs and muddied moist parts, many of which had been dried up in the past week. I saw a large butterfly and he seemed to land right above me and sits for a while on a leaf. Later on, near the end of the walk, another one, - this time blue, was following me. I figured it was all auspicious yet didn’t want to read into it too much. There is always something waiting around the corner if you let go and move on- a river, a meadow, a brook, a Willow tree, a bumble bee, an old and soulful wooden fence, a bunch of ants in the sun, a design of symmetrical shaded impressions of leaves upon a log. Much, much more.

We took our time, and went to where the pathway curved into a higher and denser forest.

There were some tall wild ferns. There is a long stretch left of there we went along. It’s overgrown but there is still a path. The dogs opened up, let out, pranced, danced, play-fought, and got that intense and latent energy out. That stretch, perhaps ten minutes long- is secluded, and looks like a place you would see in a movie or hear of in a book. The trees, impossibly tall, reach as if to the clouds. There are berries and hornets, bugs and slugs and all manner of things. The grasses, feral and tall, - must hide dozens of moths and small butterflies, insects and ants and other. See them crawl, meander, fly, and somehow talk to one another. It’s a good place to stop and reflect, - meditative, inspirational. The shards of sun come down through the tree tops and kiss certain leaves. It’s done coyly but definitely, lightly but surely, slowly and rightly.

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