Misty Spring Mornings
Posted on 26. Mar, 2009 by Deb in The Girl
Spring Fever has found me out of step and this morning, I chose to work at finding that again. Today, Greta and I ventured back to our walks in the park, a task that had slipped from my daily routine the last couple of weeks.
Spring is my second favorite season, with Autumn being the first. I love the warmth of days as the earths crust begins to thaw and the beauty of new leaves. Paint and crayon makers know that the color of green that first explodes in the form of baby leaves is different. It’s brighter yet more delicate. When I take the moment to truly see and savor the budding tress and the new growths of grass, I am momentarily speechless and then when I find my words again, I say a silent prayer of thanks for the pure loveliness of the gift. The part of Spring I struggle with is the storms. I know that in order for the things I love about spring to flourish (flowers and trees) that the rain is a requirement. A trip to the Hill Country this past weekend reminded me how devastating a lack of rain can be to nature: very little of my 12 plus hours on the road resulted in sites of those famous Texas Wildflowers that I have loved since I was a child. Rainy days, however, typically make me want to hide indoors because I might melt. Playing in the rain is something that can be done in summer, but spring storms are too chancy. Maybe I need to be a little braver some days.
But I digress.
When I heard from a friend that it was FOGGY out there, I knew that there was really no choice of which of the three parks I like to visit. Foggy mornings are not mornings to venture to wooded paths, but wide open spaces. I donned a favorite set of pants and jacket, put my hair up in a ponytail, grabbed my IPod and coaxed my sleepy walking partner to the car. The five minute drive led us to a mostly empty parking lot: the misty cool weather was keeping most of the park-visitors away. Alighting from the car, I felt as if I was in a coastal town as the moisture attached itself to my skin. It was missing, however, the salty-tang scent that can only be found on the beach. I have be be honest, that the mist bothered me, but it didn’t slow down Greta. Though she is an inside dog, she was bred to be a dog that spent her days in the field tending her sheep or cattle and her nights guarding her family. Those primal instincts surface in moments of time, no matter how spoiled she might be. The mistier the weather, the more she loves to just frolic. At nine, she finds as much joy to nasty weather as she did at 9 months, maybe even more.
We had to take the inside loop today. As much as I wanted to take the outer loop so that we could stop and gaze upon the horses in the paddock next to the park, it was too muddy; the outer loop is gravel and dirt while the inner loop is paved. The park was much too quiet today: there were no walkers or joggers, no other dog walkers, no squirrels scurrying nor birds searching for snacks It seems as if the cool and mist were a deterrent to all creatures, except me and the dog. I turned to my IPod and skipped and danced along the path as Greta walked her slow deliberate pace. I like the shuffle feature because I never know what song might play next and was treated to favorite songs from Linda Ronstadt, Duffy, Red Hot Chili Peppers, the Eagles, Trace Adkins, George Strait and The Wreckers. Our walk was much too short and I found my thoughts drifting, as they seem to most of my waking (and sleeping) moments these days, and that was to the things that are without words yet bring me joy.
Greta may appreciate the mist, but I am longing for morning walks in the park with some sun. After once-around, we were ready to leave. In the confines of the car, I found myself wishing for the misty-smell of the park instead of the scent of wet dog. But if I think about it, I can find the joy in that as well. I’m thankful that I have so many blessings in my life.
Happy Thursday.