Just a Nice Walk In the Woods

Deep snow on one bank, dry leaves on the other, a new beaver dam upstream

A bright clear day, kind of chilly, brisk wind.  A nice day for a nice walk through a nice woods around a nice pond; nothing strenuous nor spectacular; no  calendar-picture landscapes nor exotic animal sightings.  You might say kind of boring.  And I'd say yes, about as boring as breathing.  And for me, just about as necessary for health and happiness.

I feel very fortunate to not need much in the way of excitement.  A cheap date, you might say. Sweet clean air: I feel it fill my lungs and remember some folks I cared for who could barely breathe.  Soft earth underfoot: how grateful I am I can walk unencumbered (so far) by age or arthritis.  A sheltered spot to bask in the sun, the sighing of pines as the wind passes through, the sparkle of water newly unburdened of winter's ice: I can feel it, hear it, see it, be struck dumb with bliss by the wonder of it all.  Could a billion dollars buy me more joy than this?  And none of it cost me a penny.

There were a few little frissons of amusement.  I found a newly begun beaver dam on a little stream, with a beaver footprint squished in the mud.  I puzzled over a skinny, shaggy-barked tree, its twigs polka-dotted with little round bumps, before I figured out it must be a larch.  And the most amusing of all: I came to a snag that was portaled with numerous holes and I knocked on the trunk.  Anybody home? I called, and of course no one answered.  I turned to go when a small round head with large round eyes popped out of the topmost hole. Well hello there, I said as I reached for my camera, but the flying squirrel went back inside to continue its midday nap.  Sorry I woke you, little guy.  Hope to see you again.