We're a couple of ramblers, that's what we are.
Family obligations of a rather depressing sort (and then Thanksgiving which was actually pretty uplifting) saw us zooming to and from the city several times over the last couple of weeks. We don't mind the drive, even from the highway the scenery is pretty at this time of year. It was being in the city itself, with all its straight lines and angles and broken skies and noise and blank-eyed people that was really hard on our psyches. And words! There are so many words in the city; all those signs trying to grab our attention are wearing when you're not used to them any more.
City dwellers laugh at me when I complain about these things. Or they worry that I'm not all right. Too sensitive. I think they should worry about themselves, what with being so numb they don't notice any of it any more. It can't be good to be so cut off from your senses. It just can't be.
Yeah, it was all kinds of good to be home at the end of it all.
|The due-west corner of our own back yard.|
I was out of sorts when we got back though. Very.
First, I spent part of the first free day in ages napping in the back yard. I hadn't meant to nap. I was sitting in a chair in the sun, a blanket on my knees, reading my Bible. John, as a matter of fact. However, I'm afraid that became a matter of:
"His parents answered them and said, "We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind (Zzzzzz): but by what means he now sees (zzzzzz) .."
That may sound disrespectful but it isn't. I doubt the Lord minds when we fall asleep over the Bible, really. If I fall asleep thinking of Jesus giving sight to the eyes of a blind man, how bad can that be?
So I surrendered to sleep, tossing the blanket onto the ground and following it, curling up there like a cat in the warm sun. I vaguely remember feeling a chill as the tree shadows moved over me, and dragging the blanket to the next patch of sun, and again, and again. I slept in three or four different places under the caress of the sun, the gentle weight of dragonflies landing on me, waking up covered by golden fallen leaves with a grin on my face. Cured.
No longer grumpy, I jumped at the chance when Paul suggested a ramble "up Black River Road way"...
|The "Black Hills" is a bit of a misnomer right now.|
|So is "Lac Vert" (Green Lake)|
|We found wild grapes sweetened by frost on the shoreline.|
|The writer, a mere dot, once again.|
I'd found a knocked-over alder so I was gathering twigs and cones.
More pics by Paul can be seen on his Tumblr page or at his NatGeo spot here .