Heather and I went to Little River Park for our Sunday morning walk. We hiked the Ridge Trail. The information board told us it would take us 4 hours. When we completed the trail and arrived back at the information kiosk, it had only been 1.5 hours. Huh? You'd think we didn't stop and smell the roses (or in this case, watch the water) but we did. We also looked closely at beech trees, nodded to other hikers, sidestepped dogs on leashes, drank from our water bottle, and generally had a casual, yet purposeful, walk. Heck, we even sat down for awhile, see the picture! We weren't running for pete's sake.
Did we take a drastic short cut? Was the sign wrong? Did it intend 4 miles instead of 4 hours? Had it actually taken someone 4 hours to walk that same trail? Had the sign erred on the side of safe planning while trying to account for an average measure of outdoor human foot powered locomotion? Maybe the person that made the sign had gotten lost and said "Screw it, I'm not walking that trail again, it took me 4 hours." Regardless of the logic of the sign, it got me thinking about its effect on people and its effect on the land. On a simple level, I thought Wow, I bet a lot of people look at that sign and take a different trail. That's funny, people really missed out on a beautifully simple path through the woods. This must be a relatively well preserved trail we just walked. Why DID we take it after reading the sign...WE didn't want to walk for 4 hours did we? And finally, I imagined a few adventurous folks were flustered to find themselves emerging from the woods so soon after entering. Anyway, you get the point. I'm easily amused. We had a good time while it lasted.
Carve us a table, green, soft on foot, weeds unseen Paint then a canvas low, brushed in youth, alive to grow Etch now a path for two, tendered smooth, to lead us through Frame strong the hedgerow gate, encircle us, nurtured fate
We returned home,from a relaxing weekend vacation, to a sweltering heat and an unkempt yard. I needed to mow. I like the land to look healthy and happy. I hate to fuss over it though. It has dandelions, crab grass, stilt grass, tall fescue, onion grass, clover, moss, and much else. It won't win any yard superlatives(at least not in the usual categories) but it has its own charm and I care for it. So after work today, I drug out the blade runner, filled it full of expensive fumes, and forced it, sweatily, around the property. I wasn't very careful. I wanted to get it over with and take a cold shower. It seemed like an angry affair this evening,with the screaming machine, slicing noisily through the rough, tossing aside headless hoppers and zinging my bare legs with bits of hard earth. Not a pleasant toil. For almost the full hour and a half my mind was flooded with past mowing malevolence, from stinging hornets to a vivid memory of an encounter between me, on my dad's riding mower, and a garter snake who slithered unseen under the whirring deck immediately birthing a slew of messy mutant snakelings. Yep, hard to forget that one. Sorry. Must have been the heat this evening that brought that stuff back. These warm days tend to put us in our place; remind us of our humanity(or lack thereof). But it finally ended at dusk with no real excitement as far as I was aware. In the morning I'm sure all will look lovely and I'll be glad I spent the time as I did.
