April 2, 2024
Hard Times
The night passed quickly and before I knew it; I was sipping coffee on the couch with my wife. My morning was busy with chores while she prepared for work. When she was ready to leave, I walked her out the door, kissed her goodbye, and watched her walk down the front porch stairs to her car. She looked beautiful this morning.
After she left, I grabbed my camera, slipped on my boots, and headed out for a morning walk in the forest. The air was temperate, and the skies were neither dark nor bright. The woods felt quiet this morning, but once I neared the creek, I heard several songbirds greeting the start of the new day. To my surprise, I heard several frogs singing, their long trills dominating the soundscape. It was light out and I did not expect to hear them.
I took a seat on Beaver Tooth Rock, allowing myself to settle in to the rhythm of the forest. Two red cardinals flew by in a skirmish, their wings beating loudly as they zoomed by. Up in a tree, an eastern gray squirrel chattered, its boisterous noises falling short of the melodic birdsongs all around. An occasional breeze came and went, its air feeling cooler than the warm spring air.
I continued down the trails, taking in all the surrounding change. The trail looked thinner and more defined, as trees, plants, and grasses sprung up all around. Most of the trees were developing tiny leaves that looked like miniature toys. They were small, but already held the distinct shapes, only small enough to sit on my fingernail. The tiny maple and oak leaves were my favorite, and I stopped to take several photographs.
The morning walks through the forest were by now a habit, if not a ritual. Each morning, when I walked into the forest, my mind was full of thoughts about what I had to do that day. There were thoughts about my morning writing session, my mind still churning. And then there was my upcoming work that preoccupied me with emails, tasks, and deadlines. By the time I walked out of the forest, however, all those thoughts were gone. And the person who entered the woods who was busy and hurried left feeling calm. I left the woods each day feeling steady, synchronized with nature’s timing. Like a tsunami wave, moving in slow motion, nature never hurried, but its force was unstoppable.
In the afternoon, an extermination company, Rid-A-Pest, serviced our home. Of course, that meant the dogs were going berserk, and as Murphy’s Law would have it, I received several important phone calls while I unsuccessfully tried to shush the dogs. They finally settled, and I got my work done. My day was busy, but other than the few hectic phone calls, I had time to sit down and concentrate on the tasks I wanted to complete. When six o’clock rolled around, I was ready to vacate my office and get back out into nature. I texted my wife that I was heading out for a walk, but after I saw she was just fifteen minutes away, I waited for her to get home, in case she wanted to walk with me.
After my wife changed clothes, we headed down the forest trails toward the creek and then over to Beaver Tooth Rock. As we approached the area, we went quiet, walking as quietly as possible. At the base of the rock, we stood up on our tippy toes, peeking over the rock into the ravine. There, a lone deer stood feeding. We studied her briefly before climbing up the rock. As we walked up the incline, the doe spotted us and ran west, disappearing into the thick, high brush. We set up our chairs and noticed a herd hidden in the trees just below us. Aware of our presence, they all moved quietly, but with urgency, like they suddenly remembered they had somewhere else to be.
My wife and I talked about our work days and how life was going. Then we sat quietly, looking out over the creek, while I wondered how I got so lucky to find such a perfect partner. My path to her was a winding road full of detours and delays. I always marveled at how much heartbreak I could have avoided if I only knew where I was going to end up. Such is life, I suppose. Sometimes we seemed to only see what was right in front of us, while other times, we missed what was right under our nose. Why did we always look in the wrong place?
Dusk was setting in, so we made our way back to the main trail, walking along the creek. To the west, we saw another herd of deer run off as we turned south, making our way back home. I showered after dinner, thinking about the day. I wondered how I could improve my ability to see what was important, to know which parts of the present were precious, while understanding the inevitability of change. It was a mystery whether humans could, or should, be overly positive. Sadness and pain played an important role in happiness. Like the sun coming out after a dark storm, positivity was best enjoyed after a plate of hard times.