Traipsing about in the woods

I am sad to say that I did not service mankind directly on the celebration of Martin Luther Kings, Jr's birth. However, I did take the opportunity to enjoy the bizarre weather that we were having. I dusted off the cobwebs on my hiking boots (although river sandals would have done in a pinch), threw on jeans and a T-shirt and headed out with my friend to scour the wilds of a local park (largely domesticated with a dog playground and such). I brought all of the usual items that you might need for a quick walk-waterproof breathable, bulging wallet, cell phone (just in case the friend passed out and I needed to call 911 because my wilderness survival skills are not up to date. It was on vibrate, though), huge water bottle, lactase enzyme (you never know when milk might attack), Burt's Bees lip balm, camera, camera battery, extra film, river sandals in case I wanted them when I got back, light sweater.... I think that's it. Needless to say, I left some of this in the car. I think my friend thought we were heading for the real backwoods.

I have been to this park before. Several times in fact and I generally walk along the paths that are set-the asphalted ones. But, the more that I traverse this park, the more that I see there are other paths. Some barely discernable in the fallen leaves but with my keen Cherokee sense of tracking, I pick them out. And sometimes the tree limbs and thorns and mud pick me out. Some of these "paths" run straight to the cliffs (otherwise known as 10 foot falls due to erosion).

We found some pretty cool things. I spotted (or maybe he did) a capsized boat and we actually found our way there eventually. There were lots of ducks in this one inlet. It was very peaceful there, except for the "leaf-blower" in the distance (??). There is something about just watching the water that rejuvenates me. At this point in my life, I have a very hard time considering living very far from the water. Most places that I have lived since I was about 11 have been near the water. My house has never been on the water, but I have been minutes from large rivers or estuaries (I just love saying that word). I'm a costal chick. When I think about moving, particularly to somewhere flat, I feel clausterphobic. Just one of my minor nueroses.

But, this park was great.

Then, we went to Annapolis for lunch and stroll, peeking along the way into gardens, the Naval Academy, various places. I would love to get married (if the blessed event were ever bestowed on me) at the Paca House Gardens. LOVE. or a conservatory. Or a decrepit abbey like St. Andrews in Scotland (I think that was St. Andrews...not quite sure but it was beautifully destroyed with vibrant green lawns).

I have rather domestic fantasies these days. Not even like biological clock ones indicating that I want babies. Domestic. Like houses and gardens and community. It is very bizarre. I think that is because I work in the city. I now understand why people who work in cities need country homes. They need them for sanities' sake. Of course, we could bring the country into the city. Not by decorating in the psuedo-country style (yuck, ruffled curtains) but developing spaces for gardens and redeeming them. I love redemption of anything. It is the meta-narrative that I most identify with. Reminds me that I can make a mess of life and it can still be redeemed, made beautiful.

But, oh yeah, city gardens are a good thing...I think that I wrote a paper about them in college for Community Org and Development.

So, back to my day. It was rather marvelous. Restorative views, marvelous company, good physical exertion. I felt embraced by the world.

Is this too sweet to leave things at? We'll pretend the ending really was this good. Maybe it is if I believe it. ;)