Today was the kind of day that I could not get my brain to focus on anything. That mushy mass in my head has been overworked and needed a break. What I needed to do was to get outside in the fresh autumn air and move my body. I needed a cohort to get me going. That job fell to my eight-year-old son.
We decided to take a hike on the trails in our backyard. As we made our way I noticed he was full of life, running here, picking up various sticks there, with a continuing narration of his adventure. We came to the "big rock," which seemed much bigger when my children were much smaller. He decided to climb to the top and was so proud when he made it. I was less nervous than I used to be. We continued on our trek and saw the rock that looks like a turtle. We found tiny green frogs hopping from under our feet as we made our way. They were obviously sunning in the warm spots that found their way through the still leafy trees to the forest floor below. We followed them as they jumped into the babbling brook, whcih was making loud, bubbly noises thanks to yesterday's rains. The small waterfalls cascaded over the rocks and made peaceful sounds.
Feeling adventuresome we took a trail we had never seen before. It went up a steep, rocky embankment. Once at the top there wasn't much there and coming upon the no trespassing sign we decided it was a good point to turn around. I wasn't quite sure where we were and, as I'd gotten lost in the woods before and ended up far out on one of the main roads, I wasn't in the mood for a repeat of that adventure.
He collected acorns that filled my left pocket; I picked up some autumn leaves but left them on the ground when we paused to tie shoelaces. We returned to the brook but saw no more frogs. His hands were muddy as I held them, as we carefully heled each other across the rickety footbridge.
Sometimes a walk in the wood is what we need when the prescription is simplicity and hope.
