Yesterday morning I felt my lungs fill and my shoulders drop as we entered the woods. The day’s urgencies left and I let myself get a little lost in Cedar’s happy trot and whatever “new” the big tree trail had to show us this particular morning. As I relaxed into the walk, I took some solace in the fact that the day of the week has no meaning or value in the forest ecosystem. “It’s not Wednesday in the woods” felt like a consoling observation, and because I’m so witty, maybe even a blog post title.
As I walked on, though, I started thinking a little more about that proposition. Seeing the yellow and the wilt on the Devil’s Club, I mulled on where we are in the seasonal round. Well over half-time for sure. Wednesday, I thought, is the fourth day of week’s seven days…and August isn’t far off from late Wednesday of the year.
Then I started thinking of my own time on earth in these terms. It may not be Wednesday in the woods. It may actually be Thursday.
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.