On Sunday, we went for a “fancy walk.” I call it a fancy walk when we actually leave home to take a long walk. Mostly, we usually just head out our front door and can take a leisurely three-mile walk right around the neighborhood. There’s very little traffic, we pass only two houses and it’s largely just a country road with beautiful scenery, although a little road noise from the nearby highway. I love those walks. It’s a time for us to just randomly talk. For two people who work part-time and from home, we actually don’t get the time to “just be” very much. There is always work to do with a large house, huge garden, the yard and, of course, the pets. So, when we walk, we can’t work. And when we can’t work, we get to just have some really good conversations.
But on Sunday, my husband invited me on a fancy walk. He suggested we either visit the Allegany River Valley Trail or the Allegany State Park. A walk in the woods that is a little farther than our own woods is always a nice little getaway. Yes, it’s a short drive. But in a lot of ways, it’s worlds apart. We decided on the state park and I decided to make us a picnic. So, a little before 1 p.m., we set off on our rather pedantic adventure.
I wasn’t prepared for how much I needed that walk. But in the rush of work and garden processing, I had become wound up. It’s a hangover from being an executive. When work would get really busy, I would get super charged. I was hyper focused, quick to make decisions and candidly, way too excitable. Good for productivity; bad for Gail.
So, as we parked in a less usual spot, had a quick snack of cheese and grapes and embarked on our walk, I could almost immediately feel myself beginning to calm down. Instead of our usual path to the right, we went left around the loop of Red House Lake. Doesn’t seem like much but you actually see all the sights from a different perspective, making it new and more interesting. Within just a few steps, I became awed with nature again.
Early fall around here is just spectacular. Mid-fall, by the way, a little bit outperforms early fall with all of its tree-color splendor. But as a result, mid-fall gets all of the hype. That leaves early fall the opportunity to quietly amaze you. And it does. Every. Stinking. Time.
It was a bright, sunny day. In early fall, when the humidity goes out of the air, the sky turns a deep, brilliant shade of blue. The clouds were just a little puffy and not the long streaks that filter out a lot of sun. The trees are mostly at their deepest green with just a hint of change here and there, but the grasses and wild shrubs have begun their turn. So, as the sun reflected off the very peaceful lake, your eyes shifted from that deep blue to shades of light green, orange, and red ringing the lake. Then to the medium green of the grass up to the dark green of the trees and then to the brilliant blue sky with the puffy clouds. The park was largely quiet with just a few bikers, picnickers and walkers like us. At the spillway, the sounds of the water crashing below into the stream didn’t compete with the sounds of vehicles. At the little hidden pine peninsula just past the boat launch, the breeze ruffled the nearby foliage, the sun shone brightly on the water, you could see fully across the lake to the brightly colored kayaks that had been stored for winter and the air smelled like warmed pine needles.
The trip around the lake was a feast for the eyes. The Canadian geese had their own section of the lake and were lazily swimming by or standing onshore grooming themselves. The view as we crossed the lake from the spillway encompassed the few small islands, the boat launch and swimming area and then the spillway. All seemed quiet and at peace. As we turned and made our way through the short, wooded section, the quiet of the trees was broken only by our voices, lost in conversation. Then, we turned and the path took us to the covered bridge with the stream babbling underneath it. Finally, just a little over three miles later, we ended up back at the pavilion camping area, the same place that my little high school had taken us every single year for our end-of-year field trip. From our little vantage point on the side, I could see the pavilion, then the large expanse of open grass that led to a basketball-tennis court area off in the distance and to the hillside beyond, where the Beehunter Trail is.
We had our picnic – sub sandwiches with fresh fruit, cheese, homemade salsa and a beer apiece as we watched nature go by. Birds flocking overhead, the rustle of grass and the occasional shout of laughter or squeal from kids playing by the pavilion.
It made me realize so much about who I am and what I need. I still have the challenge of getting caught up in my obligations. I answer email like it will explode if it sits for more than an hour. I overplan my days and underplan my time for relaxation. I get caught up in spreadsheets, to-do lists and overthinking my responsibilities. And then, like magic, Mother Nature recenters me. She reminds me that who I want to be is not who I am acting like and that I need to slow down, calm down and exhale.
If you didn’t get the reference to the title of this post, it’s John Denver’s “You fill up my senses,” which is a love song. There is something about the easy, unassuming music of John Denver which calls me back from the 70’s and reminds me that life can be so much more simple than I truly make it. So, I’ll leave you with another phrase from perhaps the most famous of John’s songs, “Country roads, take me home. To the place, I belong.” I am a true Mountain Momma. Not from the hills of West Virginia and more yuppie than I truly ever wanted to be. But I belong here where when my mind spins, the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind reminds me that at the end of this task, contract or even career, there is something more elemental about myself that will always be: a girl at true peace with nature.
The Yuppie Homesteader 