WEEKENDING: WALK

How can you explain that you
need to know that the trees
are still there, and the hills
and the sky? Anyone knows
they are. How can you say
it is time your pulse responded
to another rhythm, the rhythm
of the day and the season
instead of the hour and the
minute? No, you cannot explain. 
So you walk. 

~Author unknown,
from New York Times editorial,
"The Walk," 25 October 1967

It's a quiet weekend.

A weekend of giving
my home some love
and making it shine,
of making sure my
family has clean clothes
to wear and good food
to eat.

A weekend of just being
home, no plans, not
having to be anywhere.

A weekend of walking
with camera in hand
to practice manual mode,
a little sad the class is over,
but so very grateful for
having had the chance to learn.

A weekend to notice the
changes taking place as
a new season begins.
The marsh grass beginning
its change from brown to
green, the trees showing
bits of color, flowers appearing
here and there, nests hidden
in branches waiting to hold
an egg or a family of squirrels,
to listen to silence.

I walk.

Joining with Amanda.