Is fast really better? Fast has its time and place.
Spring is not one of those times.
Spring is my favorite time of the year. Around mid-April, the trees start blossoming, and they grace us only briefly. With high winds and driving rains prominent in Spring, their life span is cut even shorter. I know this much about myself: I must breathe in every second possible of this beautiful yet fleeting season. Like the tiny leaves and fragrant blossoms, I feel full of hope and bliss every spring. I must not let productivity deride my most basic instinct to slow down and breathe in.
Last night I was harried and annoyed after a hurry-up-and-wait day at work, and I had many items on my To Do list for the dinner party the following night. I nearly gave in to productivity, but I took a minute, took inventory, and realized, after next week, the blossoms will be gone. You'll have to wait a whole year to see them again.
I threw on shorts and grabbed my camera and dashed off to Eagle Creek and sunk into the forest. I stood on the tall banks of the reservoir and felt the sunlight bounce off the water and warm my bones while the cool wind refreshed my skin. I listened to migratory water birds and local forest birds and tiny tree frogs and cacophonous chorus frogs welcome spring with their songs and chirps. I breathed in trillium blossoms and fuchsia red buds and white dogwood. I walked around a pond, watching the tadpoles dart around. I thought of the long summer days I spent in the park with Primo, and 14 years ago suddenly seemed the lifetime ago that it actually was.
It was getting late, and I still had so much to do at home. I contemplated leaving but got a better idea. I decided to do my run there! I stashed my camera, and dashed off onto the mostly deserted trails. No humans, no biting bugs. The soft terra firma cushioned the blow of each step, and the myriad species of trees and plants, their young leaves tender and brave capturing my imagination.
I was getting close to hitting my 3 mile goal and the sun was sinking low. I needed to go. But as I rounded a bend, something caught my eye just a foot away--a giant pileated woodpecker working his way around a tree. He was as big as pheasant, and my presence seemed to annoy him, still he let me stop in my tracks and take in his bright red cockscomb and striking black and white photos. I laughed, thinking of how much I loved hearing them on camping trips, and how Larry cursed them for waking him at the crack of dawn. He flew off, and so did I--
--for about five steps, when I came nearly face to face with a young beautiful deer. We stopped in our tracks and stared at each other. Then I noticed another, and another, and another--7 altogether, watching me as intently I watched them. They raised the white flag of their tails and galloped off--and so did I.
I continued my run, then did a cool down by bidding adieu to the sun setting over the reservoir. I drove home happy and refreshed.
I got home and decided to start the lasagna for the dinner party when I realized I had forgotten a key ingredient at the store--ricotta cheese. I rolled my eyes, not wanting to go to yet another store, then decided to make due. I hunted through my cupboards and came up with an alternate menu. Impromptu and resourceful.
Impromptu. Make due. And for the last time--make time for yourself!
Mr. Woodpecker
Beautiful sprays of redbuds
Oak-tree flowers
Paw-Paw in bloom
Fragrant Trout Lilly
Virginia Bluebells
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