Speaking of trails more literally, this photograph is from a walk I did in 2006 at 16-Mile Creek in Bronte, Ontario. Oh, and HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
3 comments:
Anonymous
said...
That's just beautiful, bp.
Tell me...when you're on a trail do you ever wander off a bit to find a small brook and keep still long enough to listen to the water flow by and watch the small current wind along?
And a Happy and prosperous New Year to you too. :)
I do indeed. I made the mistake years ago of taking a hike with - I kid you not - "power hikers". That was a short experiment. I'm a stopper-to-smell-the-roses walker and I find myself distracted by interesting patterns of bark, the need to pause to listen to the sounds of the forest, to explore the tiny flash of colour from a single unexpected wildflower, to soak up the scent of pine and cedar, to pause on the crest of a hill or under a tree and catch a delicious breeze, to watch a tiny frog hop across my path, stroke a fat, fluffy caterpillar, watch a leaf flow down the surface of a brook, or to just sit on a pile of soft pine needles, my back against a tree, and listen to the sounds of nature around me.
When I was living in England, I used to take the train to Amersham and walk down to the little town, buy some grapes, and then walk to a small river along a footpath. I'd sit on the bank, toes in the water and while away an afternoon reading and eating grapes. Those were golden moments.
3 comments:
That's just beautiful, bp.
Tell me...when you're on a trail do you ever wander off a bit to find a small brook and keep still long enough to listen to the water flow by and watch the small current wind along?
And a Happy and prosperous New Year to you too. :)
I do indeed. I made the mistake years ago of taking a hike with - I kid you not - "power hikers". That was a short experiment. I'm a stopper-to-smell-the-roses walker and I find myself distracted by interesting patterns of bark, the need to pause to listen to the sounds of the forest, to explore the tiny flash of colour from a single unexpected wildflower, to soak up the scent of pine and cedar, to pause on the crest of a hill or under a tree and catch a delicious breeze, to watch a tiny frog hop across my path, stroke a fat, fluffy caterpillar, watch a leaf flow down the surface of a brook, or to just sit on a pile of soft pine needles, my back against a tree, and listen to the sounds of nature around me.
When I was living in England, I used to take the train to Amersham and walk down to the little town, buy some grapes, and then walk to a small river along a footpath. I'd sit on the bank, toes in the water and while away an afternoon reading and eating grapes. Those were golden moments.
I take it you know the feeling? :)
There's not much like that around here. Mostly I just close my eyes and imagine it.
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