Warm remnants of the summer sun and cool, crisp autumn breezes conspire to call the month of October home.
I swam in the ocean yesterday. The air was just warm enough for a swim with a cool breeze blowing gently from the south. The water was what I call a refreshing temperature of sixty eight degrees Fahrenheit. It was so crystal clear that through a three foot depth I could count the toenails on both of my feet. I caught a few of the waves as they broke over the sand bar at low tide but my favorite is playfully ducking under their crest a bit further out. There’s nothing like the feeling of those bubbles crashing all around me, covering my head, surrounding my whole body with effervescent buoyancy. Thinking it may be my last swim of the year, I stayed in and enjoyed it for as long as I could. It felt so right that I wanted to take it home with me and save it up somewhere indoors; winter it over, enjoy it at home until next summer. Then bring it right back there to the beach in the spring to start all over again.
Yet it is early October, the smell of Fall beckons and I do hear my hiking boots call. I miss the trees. There aren’t too many of them in my view. I must drive to them, but in the Fall it is so worth the trip. Having spent my life split between ocean and woods with a healthy dash of mountains, come the Autumn my spirit yearns for the colors, textures, scents, vertical variety and people of the countryside. A bit of an unresolved IT Band issue still sidelining me from those serious N.H. descents, I’m challenged to find my hiking pleasure on a more horizontal plane. Yet into the woods I will go. Of course, my water seeking soul will find any trail that comes close to any body of water; stream, brook, river, pond, lake, waterfall; hopefully all of the above.
Approriately, the leaves will be changing before leaving. I cannot wait to view their splendid colors reflected off the water’s of the lake, to hear that crinkle-crackle underfoot. To walk with friends through forested pines, maples, oaks, observing everything and nothing. Talking things over, staying quiet because, look at where we are!
Hiking boots here I come.
Pack in the PB&J.
Honeycrisp, ahhhhh Honeycrisp!
Banana to boot!
Mr. McMonocle, well maybe, we’ll see…
Who’s ready for fall?