Pale grasses rustle in the breeze. How welcome is the sun's warmth against my face. My camera swings from one cold hand, gloves forgotten.
One corner of my mind looks out for photo possibilities, but most of my thoughts are taken up with pondering life. Curves in the path. Unknown future. Tangled branches. My father told me once, many years ago, that he'd assumed that by the time he reached his mid-50s life would settle down into an even pattern. "No," he assured me, "life has twists and turns however long it may be."
A robin flies across my path and alights in a leafless tree. How beautiful his practiced flight. How jaunty his perch. He seems to have no thought of what-to-do, what-to-do, but instead does what comes next to simply survive. Does he revel in the sun's warmth? The bright blue above?
I press on. Through the darkest part of the trail where a stream trickles or gushes under a wooden bridge. A little further and there, just where the trail comes to a T, I spy a hint of fresh green. An involuntary cry of delight -"oh Spring" - and I find more tiny leaf buds. Hope rushes up. Winter blasts may lie ahead, but spring will come.
Sere grasses, serene water and placid ducks. Harmonies of colour and texture. Shadows enhance, rather than detract from the beauty. Shadow in the foreground, light in the distance. Trusting that God will lead, moment by moment. There's the hope.
Home again. Mind at rest, body relaxed. Tell me, where, and or when, do you do your best thinking?