Oooh baby, I need a walk. I got caught up in an appointment that required me to be inside all afternoon. When I emerged from my sojourn into other realms, the sun had set.
I stood at the kitchen door, staring at the western sky, the storm door caked with frost and ice crystals from repeated openings to accommodate our four-leggeds. I yearned to walk, but there was zero enthusiasm for it from Karl or the pups. I could sense the temperature had plunged, and I didn’t want to become chilled to the bone.
But the colors left in the sun’s wake were tantalizing. If anything can get me out of the house it’s a sunset with an exploding palette. For once, though, I yielded to the plaintive glances of Pacha and Brutus. (I tend to make them ‘walk off’ their reticence – and had to do so almost the entire past week.)
Too freaking cold to walk – Photo: L. Weikel
Tonight
There’s always the chance that I might decide to take a walk – even if a short one – on my own. This is especially true if the sky is tantalizingly clear or there are meteor showers or other phenomena occurring through the night. But Karl just said, “I won’t stand in your way; do what you need to do. But I promise you – it is cold.”
In the end, hunger won out.
Something tells me I made a wise choice. Perhaps this screenshot of The Weather Channel I took only minutes ago? Yeah, that’s persuasive. If it feels like -5 degrees, I have no interest in proving how I can power through it.
It’s funny, now that I think about it. Was it more of an Act of Power to say no to that part of myself that demands I walk every day? Or should I have made myself do it? Yet again, my spontaneous ‘sighting’ of the Rune Isa earlier in the week and integration of its message of Standstill echoes in my thoughts.
I can revel in the snow and take that yearned-for walk tomorrow. Tonight I needed to be quiet, power down, and allow my batteries to recharge. (And – p.s. – judging from this screenshot, below, I should’ve gone to bed a bit earlier. This is what can happen when you fall asleep at your keyboard! YIKES!)
Oops. Shouldn’t fall asleep with your hands on the keyboard. Photo: L. Weikel
Mmm mmm mmm. I’m so glad we made ourselves walk tonight! We’d missed our chance to walk during the bright, enticing, and totally unexpected sunshine. And by the time the opportunity to walk arose, we were more inclined to hunker down with some stuffed shells, a big salad, and the tv clicker. But no. We pushed ourselves. And oh baby, what a moon awaited.
Quite honestly, sometimes 90% of the effort it takes to take a walk some days is mustering the effort to get our stuff on (including Spart’s coat and harness) and walk out the door. Getting out the door. Who knew that would be our biggest accomplishment some days?
It’s true though. Even living in a drafty old house that’s not hermetically sealed off from the elements, we can still easily find ourselves totally out of touch with the true state of the elements. For instance, after dragging my heels over readying myself for a lap around the ‘walk about,’ I was exhilarated when I stepped onto the porch and took a deep breath of refreshingly cool – but not frigid – air.
Full Virgo Moon – Photo: L. Weikel
Anticipation
I’ll admit part of the impetus that got me out the door was the anticipation of seeing the full Virgo moon rise above the fields along our route. And she did not disappoint.
As we started out on our evening sojourn, all we could see was a bright glow in the eastern sky. A quarter of a mile into our journey, though… Bam! There she was.
And I must confess: I’m going to have to do some research to see if there’s a trick to help me sneak up on the moon when she rises so huge and pregnant with promise, for it seems no matter what I do or how I try, I can never replicate her magnificence. She either looks too bright and big (thus resembling the sun, which not only dishonors her tremendous reflective gifts but also conceals her lovely craters and landscape in flashy distraction) or she appears entirely too teeny tiny on the horizon. I cannot seem to find the perfect balance that does her justice.
Full Virgo Moon Rising – Photo: L. Weikel
The Quest Continues
I know the temperatures today were mild and significant melting occurred. For one thing, the veritable mountain of sunflower seed shells underneath each of our feeders make it look like we were carpet bombed by bags of Agway seed.
But for all the melting going on elsewhere, the fields seem to be immune to the swarthy glances of the sun. In fact, the unmistakable sheen of a crisp coating of ice glistened on all the fields we passed. The moon’s countenance, of course, was the designated shimmer.
Moonbeams on Ice Field – Photo: L. Weikel
Silence Reigned
Once I exhausted my efforts to capture the magic of the moon tonight, I settled into the simple pleasure of just being, and walking, with Karl. After about a mile, we noticed how the only sound we heard was the rushing flow of the Tohickon far below the rocky cliffs along our route. No owls hooting. Not even the rustle of a single creature in the brush. Silence, broken only by the voice of the melting snow merging with the creek as it tumbles and whooshes toward its merger with the Lenape Sipu – the Delaware River.
Clouds & my mood at the beginning of my walk – Photo: L. Weikel
Back in the Saddle
I tend to think of myself as fairly steady overall emotionally. But sometimes I can feel overwhelmed and not have a clear idea of what’s at the source. That pretty accurately describes the trajectory of my day today. As the day wore on, I felt more and more sad, frustrated, and as if I was spinning my wheels in seemingly ineffective efforts to accomplish anything productive. That’s when I realized I needed to get back in the saddle.
I’m a list maker. I like to cross stuff off; it gives me a distinct sense of accomplishment to strike a line through something as simple as ‘mail a package.’ Well, today was not a good day for my list-crossing-out side. In my attempt to cross one such task off my list, I first encountered a line of five people (stacked into the lobby) at my own post office – which then shut down as I ran back to my car to repackage a box I was sending. Undaunted, I ran to a far larger post office about 20 minutes away, only to discover a line of customers 13 people long waiting to send packages.
I let that go until tomorrow.
Nevertheless, it was a lot of spinning of wheels. And that was only one of the items on my list today.
Clouds about half way around – Photo: L. Weikel
Take Five
Karl could see on my face that I was feeling more and more down as the day unfolded. But then I went on my merry postal chase and he knew my attitude was definitely not improving. From afar, he texted me that it might do me some good to do what I would tell him to do: take five minutes to sit with my journal and allow myself to decompress a little.
It was when I ‘took five’ that I realized we hadn’t taken a walk in a full week. Just realizing how much our walks keep me in balance was a revelation. Of course, on many levels I already knew just how critical our walks are to our overall health and harmony. Goodness knows, I’ve certainly written about it enough.
But here it was: in my face. My mood was dark and morose. I needed to walk.
And so we did. And didn’t the atmosphere shift before our eyes as we walked, with my own mood tracking it bit by bit? It was amazing to witness how getting back in the saddle of our physical routine so dramatically lifted my spirits.
And my journey was reflected in the sky.
Clouds nearing the end of our walk – Photo: L. Weikel
It sure was hot today. While I spent the majority of the day sitting outside on our porch writing on my laptop, I nevertheless found the heat oppressive. And I have to admit, as the day wore on and the heat seemed only to bake itself in, I despaired of managing even an evening stroll.
At one point, Karl came outside, either awed or disgusted by the fact that I was (in his opinion) torturing myself by working on the porch, to give me an update on the projected hourly temperatures for the rest of the day and evening. Upon the completion of his recitation, I just looked at him. “Your point?” I asked when he didn’t seem to get the intent behind my baleful stare.
“Guess we’re not going to walk again today,” he stated. “I don’t know how you can even stand sitting out here. It’s barely going to cool down at all – unless we wait to walk around midnight.”
I snorted at that. While I might be game for a midnight walk, we both knew he’d be fast asleep long before that witching hour.
It’s All Relative
A few hours later, I was putting two containers of freshly made potato salad and a big bowl of watermelon salad into the refrigerator, the vast majority of my meal preparation for the week completed. While it was admittedly hot work, Karl’s earlier provision of a weather advisory had tipped me off that the next several days look pretty uniformly oppressive.
I wanted both salads to chill in the refrigerator a while, so I lobbied for at least a quick stop sign for Sheila’s constitutional. (Karl will do almost anything for his little girl.) The sun was setting and even though the temperature hadn’t dropped dramatically, it did feel like a walk might be bearable now that the sun was no longer boring down on us.
A quick trip to the stop sign with Sheila not only yielded results for her, but also confirmed for us that it’s all relative: the setting of the sun actually made an evening stroll enticing, despite the fact that the actual air temperature was only about ten degrees lower than it was all afternoon.
So we managed to get a two mile walk-around under our belts (after taking Sheila back to the house). Wow, did we need it; the weather the prior two days had been either too oppressive or too wet to walk. A third day of no walking would’ve been ugly.
A Lovely Calm
Not only did we see two does and two fawns romping in a field, we were also treated to an evening without crackles and booms. Instead, we heard crickets and a catbird chattering its song, a breeze (albeit a warm one) shushing leaves high in the treetops.
I can’t say I’m not still waiting for that other shoe to drop. But for an hour or so this evening, peace and calm were the order of the day. May it extend into the week for all of us.
What a day we enjoyed today, mostly just hanging out with each other. Isn’t that the beauty of a relationship that’s celebrating 40 years of official togetherness? (We knew each other for three years before we tied the knot, so there are a few years of ‘unofficial’ togetherness, too…wink wink.)
But honestly, the best part about Karl and our relationship is how much I enjoy just being with him. Sitting on the porch, reading together, picking cards, laughing, snarking, watching the birds, cursing the squirrels, dreaming more dreams, wondering what’s next on our adventure agenda.
Anniversary Clouds 2 – Photo: L. Weikel
We really only did two things today: (1) We purchased a wonderfully deep and melodic wind chime, something of beauty to remind us of our milestone every day; and (2) took a walk. Of course. Because it’s the sacred little things we do that make all our lives both magical and worth the effort.
I share with you the blockbuster clouds that accompanied us on our journey today.
Love to all of you who sent us a happy thought or two today. We mirror them back to you with joy!
And hang on to your hats, everyone. I have a feeling this week is going to be…raucous.
By mid afternoon today, Karl and I had hunkered down. All five of our animals were in the same room with us, four of them observing absolutely no social distancing. The fifth, Precious, was to the surprise of no one, enjoying the ‘togetherness’ from the other side of the room.
It was cold outside. The weather app said it was 42 degrees – but felt like 38. That’s chilly. And the day was gray gray gray. It was a perfect day to curl up with a good book, cuddle with the beasts, and maybe – just maybe – take a quick nap.
After writing a bit in my journal, I sat up and declared, “I don’t want to take a walk today.”
“Ok,” Karl agreed, not needing to have his arm twisted. I sat back in my chair, relieved that he wasn’t going to guilt me today. Usually we act as the voice of conscience for each other, each taking up the mantel of Goader in Chief when the other is of a mind to skip a day of mindful meandering. But sometimes neither one of us can muster it up, so we take a day. All things in balance.
I resumed my writing. He resumed his reading.
Duty Called
All of a sudden, I realized sunlight was streaming in the window from over my shoulder. Glancing out that window, not only did the blanket of overcast appear to be breaking apart, but there were also some very obviously annoyed cardinals flitting about the lawn underneath the empty feeders. A blue jay clung to the equally empty peanut loop and glared in my general direction.
Reaching for the bag of peanuts so I could refresh the peanut loop, I realized just how hard I’ve been hitting these babies lately. Nevertheless, I forced myself to fill the loop and, while I was at it and the sun seemed to shine even brighter minute by minute, I filled all the feeders with their favorite black oil sunflower seeds.
By this time, I realize the sky was indeed clearing up. The decision not to walk today was a lame one. No, I didn’t feel like walking. It was definitely still brilliantly cold out. But the sun was shining and the day was gorgeous. How could I to say no to this chance to walk my talk?
Change of Plans
I walked inside and as easily as I’d declared the day to be a no-walk day, I rescinded my assessment. “We need to walk,” I stated matter-of-factly.
Karl sighed. “Alright. We’ll do a two,” he conceded. “But that’s it.” He was being a great sport. He’d been snuggled under a blanket and Spartacus had been cuddling. That would be tough to leave under any circumstances.
But rally he did. And once we got on the road, the weather seemed to soften even more. With barely a reference to it, we took the long way.
It ended up being a four mile walk today in spite of ourselves. From hunkered down to taking the ‘long way.’ I guess you could say we ‘went with the flow’ and listened.
Wow. What a way to start the week. If you pay attention to the news during the day, finding the light in any of what we were hearing was a tough task.
But the weather helped. The blue skies and bright sunshine were not insignificant, as I guarantee things would’ve felt exponentially worse had it been raining.
It looks like we’re in for a blanket of cloud cover tucking us in tomorrow, but at least without precipitation until a shower toward the end of the day. That’s a lot better than what I saw being forecast yesterday.
While I’m sure the skies being overcast will dampen our spirits somewhat, at least we’ll still be able to get outside for a little bit of one-to-one connection with Mother Nature without getting soaked.
Now More Than Ever
It seems to me that, now more than ever, we need to make a point to get outside and be in nature as much as possible. I’m not suggesting that vast swaths of anyone’s day be spent walking or hiking or riding a bike; it’s not even physical exercise that I’m advocating most. (Although I guarantee no matter what you’re thinking or doing or facing in your life, taking a 15 minute walk will improve your outlook).
No, I’m simply suggesting that at some point in your day, if you can even just walk outside and stand with your face pointed toward the sun (even if it’s behind a bank of clouds), close your eyes, plant your feet, listen for any type of a sign from nature, and take three long, slow, very deep breaths, you will feel better.
Sign From Nature?
What I mean by that is try to see or hear some indication that you’re sharing this planet with something other than just other humans. Identify one natural noise: a bird chirping, a squirrel chittering, the wind rustling leaves or tinkling wind chimes; a dog barking, a bee buzzing, peepers peeping, or crows cawing.
Depending upon where you are when you make your nature connection, you may not be able to hear anything ‘natural’ right off the bat. So you may have to look around, use your eyes or other senses, and find your connection that way.
It feels important that we remember to do this right now. We must remember, we’re part of something much bigger than just being human. We remember that by finding the light of Mother Nature.
I need to ‘fess up and make the following declaration: I NEED TO GET WALKING AGAIN!
The sad, sad truth is that I haven’t logged more than 2.3 miles (which I walked on Monday) in a single day since Sunday, August 4th, when I walked 3.7 miles. That’s simply unacceptable.
I did have one day that yielded interesting stats, though. Check it out:
In my defense, my most compelling excuse has been the oppressive heat and humidity that’s been blanketing our area. And for all you who live anywhere near me, you know the operative word here is, in fact, blanketing. It almost squeezes the breath out of you when you walk out the door and feel the heaviness of the air put the squeeze on you like those new weighted blankets I’ve seen being advertised.
Blame It On Sheila
And I don’t dare take Sheila. She’ll keel over. In fact, the old girl has given us a scare a couple of times recently, just deciding she’s going to ‘go on walkabout.’ We put her harness on, turn away to get her leash or pack some treats in a bag to take along on the walk and suddenly discover she’s decided to start the walk without us.
She’s never been like this! She’s always been the one we could consistently rely upon to stay on the porch and not wander off.
And what makes everything exponentially worse about the situation is that she really and truly is deaf – and pretty blind, too. The cataracts look pretty complete in one eye, and not insignificant in the other eye as well.
We can only guess that she (a) knows the way by rote, as she’s walked it so very many times throughout her life; and (b) her nose, combined with her recollection of the ‘usual’ walk itself, is her guiding light.
Nose Trumps All (and gets her in trouble)
Speaking of that nose, though… I think that’s what got her in trouble the other day.
Karl and I thought we might sneak in a quick walk (the 2.2) on Monday morning, before either of us plunged headlong into our day. We put on the pups’ harnesses in anticipation, even though we had yet to pick out cards for the day.
As we were choosing our cards, we suddenly realized that Sheila had wandered off. It’s weird. She and Spart are always around. We don’t pay constant attention to them – they’re just part of our lives. Sitting on the couch, cuddled on their outside pillow, basking in the sun on the grass when we’re outside, etc.
So it was all of a sudden that Karl looked at me aghast and asked, “Where’s Sheila?”
I looked around, my eyes surveying in a smooth search of the perimeter all of her usual haunts. No Sheila.
DARN it. We’d only minutes before joked about how we’d have to keep an eye on her, since we were putting her harness on. We were pretty sure she only went on walkabout, though, if we happened to leave her out on the porch by herself.
Well that was debunked almost immediately.
You Search One Way, I’ll Search Another
Karl, based on an experience he’d had right before leaving to pick me up at the airport Sunday morning, jumped into his car to do a sweep of our walking route.
Spartacus and I, on the other hand, headed back behind the barn. I was calling her, even though I knew that was fruitless, and also clapping my hands. Clapping seems to be the most effective and reliable way of getting her attention lately.
So I’m out there calling and clapping, calling and clapping. I go all the way back behind the barn to the wildflowers I pictured in last night’s post, checking in the tall, tall grasses, stopping now and again to see if there was any movement or sign of my Sheila.
Nope
Reluctantly, Spart and I head back up to the house. I just keep calling and clapping, calling and clapping.
Then I hear it: an unfamiliar rustling sound. I step off the porch. It sounds like it’s coming from the garage. I keep calling and clapping, calling and clapping.
More rustling. As I get closer, it now sounds like it’s coming from outside the garage. Perhaps the grove of trees just beyond it?
That’s when I encountered this:
Yes; apparently Sheila’s nose had diverted her into the garage, where she scored an empty bag of chips Karl had squirreled away while painting when I was at Amadell. Busted!
And there was Sheila, pretty well stuck. I’m sure all my calling and clapping had motivated her to come out of the garage – but her internal GPS was distorted inside the chip bag. While she may have known she took a wrong turn and been frustrated, I have no doubt her stress was significantly ameliorated by the yummy salt, fat, and chip crumb heaven she found herself in.
(Spartacus kept sniffing and licking the back of her head the rest of the day.)
It feels like it’s been forever since Karl and I had a chance to take one of our walks. But we managed to take one this evening. In fact, we went around twice, just for good measure. Along the way, we picked up some cool treasures from our walk.
The first discovery was this greatly intact butterfly. When I discover butterflies that are fully intact, I assume (rightly or wrongly), that it’s been hit by a car. Too many times, I’ve been driving along and suddenly see a butterfly, flying in a characteristically loop-the-loop flight pattern, waft out into the path of my car. Often it’s too late or too difficult to avoid hitting it; and all I can do it hope that the air current passing over my car will buffer the delicate one from slamming into my windshield.
Sometimes we get lucky; sometimes we don’t.
I’m afraid that’s probably what happened to this lovely one, which I found on the side of the gravel road near High Rocks. It’s too intact. It obviously wasn’t killed by anything that tried to eat it.
A Surprise Peeking Out of the Mud
Later in our walk, I noticed the Township road crew had recently dredged out along the side of the road. With a combination of scraping and scooping, they cleaned up the piles of mud and debris that have accrued as a result of the flash flood-inducing rains. The sides of the road have been getting pretty full lately, to be honest.
Something bright and pretty caught my eye, flashing a smile at me from the muck left behind. What a pretty mushroom! I was struck by how bright a color it is, and even more so when I got up close and saw the bright yellow outline around its cap.
I’m trusting one of you will fill me in on precisely what kind of a mushroom this is.
Photo: L. Weikel
Frog But No Photo
I also found a dead frog, but alas, I did not take its photo. Truth be told, Sheila found the half-dessicated frog while taking a pit stop to add her scent to the neighbor’s flower bed. I saw her suddenly shaking her head in the characteristic fashion she employs when she’s trying really hard to swallow whole some disgusting tidbit before having to “drop it!” when we realize what she’s doing.
I declined to photograph the frog. It was not particularly flattering. But that makes me think of another frog I photographed along that same route quite some time ago. I’ll see if I can find it and will post it here, too.
Woman-Frog – Photo: L. Weikel
Success!
Tell me you don’t see the woman with upraised arms?!?
Treasures from our walks. We’re so incredibly lucky to live here.
Blue Heron Hanging at a Pond Beside the Road – Photo: L. Weikel
Not Another Weather Post
I will admit, I am as loathe to write another post focusing primarily on the weather as you are to read one.
But I have to tell you: for a person who mostly listens to others and usually doesn’t do much of the talking, it’s hard to come up with something to ‘talk about’ every day. That’s especially true when you consider that there are many days when I don’t leave my home. And even some days when I barely leave my porch.
Today, for instance, I reveled in getting lots of emails written, forms completed and submitted, and appointments scheduled. Yet I barely left my porch. And while I managed to cross a lot of tasks off my ‘to do’ list, having a productive day does not necessarily translate into having much to write about. At least, not anything that might hold interest to many, if any, of you.
Lost Opportunity
One thing that happened today was a moment of excitement, rapidly whisked away by a flood of disappointment. Last week I received an invitation from my law school to secure tickets to attend a “conversation” with The Honorable Ruth Bader Ginsburg. The notice indicated that tickets would become available online at 10:00 a.m. this morning.
You can guess how successful I was in scoring tickets. Not at all.
But it was fun to imagine, even if only for a millisecond, having the opportunity to listen to and experience this icon in person.
A Vow for Tomorrow
Surprisingly, the wild storm last night did not usher in a new wave of pleasant weather. It cooled things off a little bit, but not significantly. In fact, I was surprised by how miserable the weather turned out to be again by late this afternoon.
Ooops – I just realized I’ve begun talking about the weather again. Gah.
Well, it was really just a segue into what I wanted to say about walking. It’s official: I just allowed an entire week, a vast seven days, to go by without walking as much as one pathetic mile. Appalling!
The last mileage of any consequence that I walked was last Monday, when I walked three miles. The day before that I walked 6.5 miles.
Re-Committing
I guess that’s something I could write more about tomorrow. I was really on a roll there for quite a while. And I’ll tell you: I miss my walks.
So my Vow for Tomorrow is to renew my walking. I’m beyond eager to do so. I yearn to be walking again. I don’t care how long my session lasts tomorrow, I know the weather should be exquisite for a walk by the time I get home – and I intend to take one.
Let’s hope I can snag a photo or two that can inspire me to write about something fascinating or intriguing.
In the meantime, I’m going to leave you with this little critter, who kept insisting upon marching across the top edge of my computer earlier today.
