The Same Old Path
The cawing Blue Jays scare the Cardinals away from the bird feeder in my backyard. Pale and washed out the female cardinals are easy to overlook next to the vibrant crimson-against- white –snow show of the males.
I see these sights every day.
Chance, our mountain cur, and I walk a short mile and a half loop that is really, probably trespassing, OK defiantly trespassing, every morning. Each time we pass the pissing post, it's new for him. To him, there is new information to be gleaned from the scents.
Greens fade to yellow and brown in the tree I pass every morning, and I pick up on the subtle variations from day to day, season to season.
Now there is snow, and I see tracks of animals I didn’t know lived in my dog walking zone.
I stop and try to figure out their activities. Were they running? Playing? Where do they live?
Today I’m at the ocean at Monterrey Bay and everything is new, and my head is on a swivel trying to take in all the sights, smells, and sounds. Crashing, rushing waves, slanting shafts as the sun momentarily breaks through the clouds,scents of salt and seagull scat in the air.
Desperately, I try to take in every tiny bit of the newness. I’ve never been here before, and I might never be here again.
In Binnewater on my usual route it comes- understanding. I’ve never been here at this moment before, and I will never be here at this moment again.
It’s all new today, and it will be new and different tomorrow.
I walk the same path, run the same trail, climb the same route, but it’s never the same. The light has changed, the plants have grown or faded, scents are heightened by the rain or dampened by the cold.
It's only through being in the identical spot day after day that the patterns of change emerge. The Cardinal couples are working together in defiance of the Jay. By walking the same old path every day, I learn something new.
I see these sights every day.
Chance, our mountain cur, and I walk a short mile and a half loop that is really, probably trespassing, OK defiantly trespassing, every morning. Each time we pass the pissing post, it's new for him. To him, there is new information to be gleaned from the scents.
Greens fade to yellow and brown in the tree I pass every morning, and I pick up on the subtle variations from day to day, season to season.
Now there is snow, and I see tracks of animals I didn’t know lived in my dog walking zone.
I stop and try to figure out their activities. Were they running? Playing? Where do they live?
Today I’m at the ocean at Monterrey Bay and everything is new, and my head is on a swivel trying to take in all the sights, smells, and sounds. Crashing, rushing waves, slanting shafts as the sun momentarily breaks through the clouds,scents of salt and seagull scat in the air.
Desperately, I try to take in every tiny bit of the newness. I’ve never been here before, and I might never be here again.
In Binnewater on my usual route it comes- understanding. I’ve never been here at this moment before, and I will never be here at this moment again.
It’s all new today, and it will be new and different tomorrow.
I walk the same path, run the same trail, climb the same route, but it’s never the same. The light has changed, the plants have grown or faded, scents are heightened by the rain or dampened by the cold.
It's only through being in the identical spot day after day that the patterns of change emerge. The Cardinal couples are working together in defiance of the Jay. By walking the same old path every day, I learn something new.
