Chasing Life (5)
In mid-September, Mother Nature flips the switch between summer and autumn a few times before settling into steadily falling temps and shorter days. One day you might be sweltering and sweaty in a tank and shorts only to awake the next morning needing a windbreaker and umbrella to take the dog out. I like the variety, and welcome each day as it comes.
Yesterday, I found perfection in the light crisp breeze, as it was balanced by bright, warm, rays from the rising sun. Mara and I set out for our morning marsh walk. The parking lot entrance we visited is the dead end to a road named Frog Alley. This summer, I have seen more frogs there than I could ever count. It is a joy to watch them spring into the air to avoid my approaching footsteps. If there’s been rain, some might linger in a puddle and watch me pass. This is what they look like:
There are trails leading to the north and south from where I parked. Yesterday, instead of heading south on one of our usual routes, Mara and I went north. It appeared the path we took had not been mowed all summer, although a vehicle or two had driven on it. Despite our efforts to hold to the tire tracks, Mara and I were both soaked from morning dew within the first one hundred feet. Tall grasses arced over the space where tires had tread, tickling and bathing me from my knees to my ankles.
Wet is wet — and even though my soaked tennis shoes quadrupled their weight, I was mesmerized by the shimmering water droplets coating every blade of grass, dandelion fluff, three-leaf clover and milkweed pod within view. Had we stuck to our normal routine, I would have missed the show.
When we reached the dike, I was rewarded with a distant glimpse of swans. I recalled seeing swans in that parcel of the marsh last spring. They apparently decided to stay and nest. As Mara and I got closer, I could see the snow white pair had four tan cygnets floating nearby. Our approach encouraged them to gather close and move unhurriedly toward the center of the pond.
“You’ve nothing to fear from us,” I called as we walked on.
To Mara, I cursed that I’d left my phone in the car. The dew, sparkling on the green and burgundy grass seed heads, looked like ice crystals. The dandelion heads were magnificent, twinkling as if they wore wedding rings. And, the swans. It would have been nice to capture a photo of the swans.
“Oh well, Mara. We’ll have to remember to bring the phone and come this direction the next time the weather conditions are right. Crisp air and bright sunshine dress the earth in bling,” I said.
We walked on, occasionally stopping to sniff, investigate, or simply take a deep breath of fresh air and sunshine.
Drenched, panting (Mara, not me), and sated, we entered the shade of the trees for a short quarter mile amble back to the lot. I was pleasantly surprised at the car I saw parked next to mine when we crested the small hill. It had a tennis ball attached to its antenna. My new friend had chosen this same marsh location to practice his intervals that day. Coincidence and synchronicity are my new daily companions. I wondered how he felt about dew and wet feet.
From our spot on the slight hilltop, I scanned the dikes. I looked back down the slope we’d just climbed. Nope. I couldn’t catch site of him anywhere. Assuming he knew Mara and I were there too, he’d seen us with our vehicle in other places, I left a note on a brown paper napkin tucked under the driver’s side windshield wiper. It said:
Now he knows our names. I still don’t know his.
What I do know is:
Words do not always need to be shared. Sometimes just knowing a kindred spirit walks your same path is enough for one day.
