In steady measured steps we move upward,
foot hitting root and rock,
a layer of orange, red, and yellow leaves swept along too.
Markers painted on the tree truck show us the way,
but just as often our eye is drawn to another less worn path,
to another possibility, and another.
This journey calls us.
Call me modernist if you wish, but I really don’t know how to inhabit life without my own personal interests, memories, and desires, all working together to create my perception. Yesterday my daughter wrote, You love luck. She’s a perceptive one, but that is hardly a secret. I am obsessed with lucky objects, from a penny found on the road to any number of things that seem to ignite good fortune. I am equally obsessed with avoiding bad luck or drifting into that storyline. Not like I play the lottery, but if I am able to wrap up my work day with enough time to enjoy the outdoors under a moving canopy, I consider my fortune to be worthwhile. This week I’ve had a string of days with such luck. Hiking, running, biking and even a woods walk, all skirted between rain bursts.
Change is in the air once again. Mornings start off crisp while dusk arrives sooner now that it is mid-September. But I find myself wanting to hold on to the laze of August before it vanishes completely. So I attempt to stroll about in the afternoons and take in the flowering gardens, the green in the meadows, the life of the forest, and all the rest of those sweet reminders that summer holds for us. Tonight why not stroll with me, and enjoy the precious sights that are my immediate world before the seasonal change comes for real.
Nine Cent Girl 