Short Walks 2

July 4^th 2023

Morning:

The squirrel chatters away, high in a tree, the rhythmic tat-tat tat and squeaks above us.

I sit in a chair, now in the cooler shade of the clouds. Below me, a light breeze wriggles the baby aspens, barely two feet tall.  They are children of the forest playing games, gathering their strength and prowess.

I sit back and look up at a shining silver break in the grey, as the sun casts similar light across the grasses through tree branches. It is warming me, radiant, caressing. It feels as though it burns skin for a few moments. Before this disappears, I’m reminded of the dramatic reaction my body has with the sun. There is an ancient synthesis from the beginnings with the sun. One might call this simply natural, but I know how deeply it brings me alive in the morning. It penetrates my eyes, as if a portal into my inner being. I become more alive and whole as my body receives.

This afternoon:

We put on shoes and take a water bottle and cameras. There is a slope into the deep forest away from camp and the great field. I know that if we get lost, we just keep walking downward to a Forest Service road. We will wander as far as our mood is fulfilled.

We just want to see what is there, in the neighborhood.

 

We have to climb over several fallen trees.

In between the pine needles, the grass is tall back here. This being the end of June during a drought, all has a dryness. Grass and pine needles smell dry, different. They are stiffer, less forgiving, less resilient in the crush of our feet.

We admire the intricacy of gnarly fallen trees, stopping to take a few photos, to capture the flowing lines, the art in nature.

The next layer of red topsoil is being created. I walk across the mushy texture of rotted trees, now fractured into a long pile, a strip.

When trees fall, they take down their neighbors. Younger more flexible neighbors get bent forming arches.

Although dry, we discover a veritable crop of mushrooms on the north side of a tree. DF climbs in for the photo.

One of these days, we will learn more about fungi. I know that our ignorance has cost us many a feasting meal.

We walk down and I see the light of the road clearing through the forest and decide to avoid it. We wander along the ridge, angling back to camp, looking for landmarks. We come out just right.  Gone less than an hour and we still have energy, but first a big lunch.

It’s July 4^th and we’re going to the White Mountain Apache Ski Lodge. They’re putting on a big firework show. This bag may explode.

10,000 Ft. They practically open themselves!

I am on the forum of FreeRangeNaturism.com often, if you would like to converse.

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