Fluttering

Yesterday I hiked up Drummer Hill in the morning light. Up to the power lines and out of town til the only sounds were birds and breeze. I saw scat, coyote, and I knew because it was in the middle of the trail and perched on top of things, as high as it could get. I like knowing the secrets of the forest.


I got almost lost, twisting down the hill around mountain bike trails and ended at the highway, turned back, took a cross trail and ended up the road from where I began. The compass in my head did alright til just before the very end. One moment of panic as I looked side to side and all around me, forest. But I followed the slope and the sounds and remembered that I wasn't lost in the wilderness but in a wooded reserve in the middle of town, a blessing in itself. I'd ridden my bike there from my house in 7 minutes.


I found a perfect house near the trail head, a perfect cottage house with bay windows full of plants and a vine wreath on the wooden door. I stole a picture to remind me of beautiful spaces, the kind of place I want to create and live in some day.



This week I'm dog sitting for nine month-old Jack and staying at his own bright, sunny house in the country. I'm treating it like a vacation, a retreat. I have writing and reading to do, sewing and crafting and sleeping, hiking, walking, breathing.


Last night we trolled the yard before bed and I saw a moth with bright pink legs and pink spotted wings clinging to the screen door. The wind was blowing and its wings were fluttering but its tiny feet held tight. The air was cold and out here, the night is dark.


The weather is changing and I'm rearranging, regaining strength or finding what I never had. New ways of thinking on things that have gone round and round and round. New ways of forgiving, myself and everyone else, for what we are and aren't. I'm worrying less and thinking longer, letting reality catch up with my head and getting my heart in sync. It feels good to be right where I am.