I’ve discovered that my days go generally “better” if I walk in the mornings. This walking gives me space and time to immediately go into gratitude and appreciation for all the beautiful miracles of the world and my life. It was an especially delicious experience this morning because my Baby Angel chose to walk with me and it’s always a pleasure when she is in the mix.
Every morning, though, this morning stroll – because, truly I’m strolling and have no desire to power walk – is a feast for my senses.
The sound of my feet hitting the pavement, the grass, the puddles, the dirt road in the field. The sound of the electricity coursing through the massive power lines over head. The sound of the wind blowing against the crispy weeds.
The smell of the secret harvest of white sage I’ve discovered in this field. The smell of morning dew in the air, on the grass. The hint of the scent of the approaching autumn season. The smell of flowers and dust.
The colors seem to be more brilliant to my eyes and the details seem to stand out more vividly. The slightest change in the landscape is noticeable. Even the smallest weed in the cracks of the sidewalk seems significant. Dancing around the potatoe bugs – or Tapatoe bugs, as my daughter kept accidentally calling them – so that I didn’t crush any of them while they were on their morning stroll, really kept my eyes alert.
The mists from the sprinklers in this yard and that kisses my skin and leaves me shivery for but a moment. The trees lean over to caress me with their leaves and branches and the grasshoppers flit about quickly, landing on me and sending me squealing because it’s one of my least favorite sensations to have a grasshopper land on me.
