(Written on a note pad around 20 years ago, and found this week. It has little to do with Dadhood, more to do with being a husband. Something that rings even more true today.)
I walked into nature enjoying the peace, looking up at the blue sky through the random limbs and changing leaves of color. I spotted three bucks wearing stately crowns of antlers and enjoying what time of year provided them. My dog, Daisy, alternately followed me, led me, and darted off every so often in a futile chase of a squirrel or chipmunks; the bucks she respected. It was a beautiful fall day with unusual pockets of cool and warm air as I passed through them.
Today would be a longer walk because we had daylight enough. Daisy and I took a winding trail that scaled a steep hill separating us from the Meramec River and its lush valley. I would step aside for the occasional biker, scolding Daisy when she wouldn’t do the same. We had taken these paths many times and Daisy knew every fork that was our favorites and I obediently followed her. As was normal for me, I stumbled often on rocks or exposed roots that make this more than a simple stroll. After two serious spills where I suffered a gashed knee and broken ribs, I finally learned not to run these trails any longer.
As we neared the top of the hill and walked toward the cliffs overlooking the valley, I get the same feeling I always get at this point. It was the anticipation of the beautiful view I already knew so well. Beauty never disappoints yet there are those who are unconscious of the wonders no man could create. I walked down the path paralleling the cliffs marveling the trees, the shades of red, orange, yellow, brown and green leaves, the river, and the rolling hills.
Daisy knows we always stop at a bench on the trail that allows a rest while enjoying the panoramic scene. I try not to think of anything while sitting on that bench. I figure if things are going on in my brain, then nothing is coming in. But it’s tough not to think this time as hard as I try. It is because I remember when you sat next to me on that bench on a day that was much like this, at least in its beauty. Only it was spring, when everything was coming alive. This was fall, when everything in nature was showing off before going on a long hiatus. I always loved Spring and Fall. That year, I liked Spring a little better.
P.S. As a photographer, I see things others do not. As a writer, I see stories in everyday life. Not being a musician, I wonder what melodies and such I am missing. As a man, I want to absorb moments that could be easily ignored or forgotten.
I walked into nature enjoying the peace, looking up at the blue sky through the random limbs and changing leaves of color. I spotted three bucks wearing stately crowns of antlers and enjoying what time of year provided them. My dog, Daisy, alternately followed me, led me, and darted off every so often in a futile chase of a squirrel or chipmunks; the bucks she respected. It was a beautiful fall day with unusual pockets of cool and warm air as I passed through them.
Today would be a longer walk because we had daylight enough. Daisy and I took a winding trail that scaled a steep hill separating us from the Meramec River and its lush valley. I would step aside for the occasional biker, scolding Daisy when she wouldn’t do the same. We had taken these paths many times and Daisy knew every fork that was our favorites and I obediently followed her. As was normal for me, I stumbled often on rocks or exposed roots that make this more than a simple stroll. After two serious spills where I suffered a gashed knee and broken ribs, I finally learned not to run these trails any longer.
As we neared the top of the hill and walked toward the cliffs overlooking the valley, I get the same feeling I always get at this point. It was the anticipation of the beautiful view I already knew so well. Beauty never disappoints yet there are those who are unconscious of the wonders no man could create. I walked down the path paralleling the cliffs marveling the trees, the shades of red, orange, yellow, brown and green leaves, the river, and the rolling hills.
Daisy knows we always stop at a bench on the trail that allows a rest while enjoying the panoramic scene. I try not to think of anything while sitting on that bench. I figure if things are going on in my brain, then nothing is coming in. But it’s tough not to think this time as hard as I try. It is because I remember when you sat next to me on that bench on a day that was much like this, at least in its beauty. Only it was spring, when everything was coming alive. This was fall, when everything in nature was showing off before going on a long hiatus. I always loved Spring and Fall. That year, I liked Spring a little better.
P.S. As a photographer, I see things others do not. As a writer, I see stories in everyday life. Not being a musician, I wonder what melodies and such I am missing. As a man, I want to absorb moments that could be easily ignored or forgotten.
