My never ending path

On the path I took today there are several wooden bridges separated by about a mile or more. I stopped at the first one I came to and watched the water flowing beneath it, left there by the recent rain. I watched it as it dwindled and ended in muddy puddles of bracken and weeds. Between the walking paths were acres of pastureland and long neglected corn fields, shrubbery, and nettle. The other bridges were several miles beyond the first, but clearly visible. the area was surrounded by a forest of tall trees and seemed to be a world in itself. And yet, toward dusk, I could see blinking lights through the trees. I knew what they were. A hospital was being built about five miles away as the crow flies. I could only imagine the silence of the night of the night interrupted by ambulances in the near future. Would the sudden, unfamiliar intrusion drive the birds and animals away? What about the humans who would benefit by the new technology? What would be gained? And yet, who can determine how much would be lost?

Early this morning, far across the stubby fields, a saw a lone horseman on the path leading across one of the wooden bridges. The horse, a palamino, was traveling at an easy canter, the reins loose in the rider's hands. Something about the pair looked familiar. Perhaps it was the horse's white mane, and the rider's slim, relaxed body in the saddle. As we approached the wooden bridge, each from a different direction, I could see that the rider wore jeans and was bareheaded, his glistening black hair stirred by the breeze. I recognized him as the man with the serape I had met a few weeks ago. He looked younger than the first time I had seen him, in his early twenties, perhaps. He smiled in recognition and said "buenos dias". I returned the greeting. That night I dreamt about him. Something vague yet disturbing. In the dream he had addressed me by my name, even though it was the first time I had met him. In the morning when I awoke I remembered the dream, and wondered what it meant.

A Never Ending Path

Today I walked for three miles, taking a route I had not taken before. It is more pristine, more primitive than the ones I explored earlier. I saw some lovely blue buntings that were more purple than blue in color and which fairly took my breath away. They are, I would guess by their small size and radiant colors, finches. There were also some elglets and some larger birds of prey and I wondered what they were. I am always astounded by the cardinal with its red crested plumage and the swiftness of its flight, which makes me think of a blaze of light flashing through the trees. They are dazzling, splendent. Splendent! What a lovely word for a bird. The bird song I love most is that of an ordinary robin. What other sound can compare with its sweet simplicity? How very moved I am by all that it conveys.

Horse back riders I met on my path.

It is a cool evening for June 7. Sweater weather, actually. The air is fresh and actually chilly. There are puddles alongside the path from yesterday's rain. I was surprised to see a turtle digging up the moist earth, and depositing some newly laid eggs there. I watched the activity for a few minutes, and then resumed my walk. On the way back I noticed that the damp earth was now partially covered and that the eggs were no longer there. A racoon was skulking off with the last of them. How fiendishly clever. The turtle will now have to lay more ovum for the development of its young, and keep a closer watch until the eggs are hatched so that a hungry newcomer will not discover them and disrupt the course of nature.

A never Ending Path.

This morning I met a man a man wearing a colorful serape around his shoulders. He was behind me but I knew he was on horseback because of the soft clop clop of the animal's hooves on the sandy path. When he passed me he nodded politely. I assumed he was a Mexican from the nearby town of Lockport. The Mexicans who live there have small rodeos nearly every weekend in the summer. I went to see one some years ago, and was surprised to see rhe beautiful horses and the skillful riders. They are a people who treat their children and their horses well.

My never ending path is miles long, recently created for walkers and joggers. Motorized vehicles are not allowed, but horses are, mounted by riders, and are a lovely sight for cameras. It is always quiet on my path, with only the twitter of birds, the sussurring rustle of leaves, and the soft babble of the many brooks flowing alongside. In the wooded areas along my path are coyotes, although they know how to make themselves invisible to people. There are a lot of squirrels, who are not the least bit shy around humans, and plenty of deer. An occasional fox, which is as fleeting as a humming bird, and which is a lone traveler. Walking along my path, I feel like an inhabitant of another world. I would not be too surprised to meet a creature from another planet. It is hard to believe that only a mile or so away are rows of houses along a busy highway.