DSC02536I don’t know why I have to continually relearn things. How many times, finding myself in the green woods, do I have to say “Oh! I feel better!” As if surprised, as if I haven’t found that reaction a thousand times before?DSC02543

The ground was so dry, the hard packed dirt cracked and solid. But the woods gleamed with good health. Green glimmering, the air green with it, the wood boards quiet under my feet. DSC02545DSC02546

I found the boat launch right off the loop in Fort Hill and I sat on the bench — “hallowed ground” said a granite plaque, going on to talk of someone missing off the 103rd floor of the WTC, a picture of him and his red boat etched into the stone. It was grey and humid and — elsewhere in the wood — hot. But the breeze was freshning and steady off the water, the air smelled of salt and green marsh grass (green everywhere). I watched people come in off the water or go out into it. A man’s mutt escaped from him when he got out of his boat, and despite his increasingly annoyed calls, the dog ended up beside me on the bench, smug, smelly and oh so cute. I told his lovably ugly face that he was very handsome.DSC02549Today is curtains of rain, the traffic outside wet on the pavement. It’s cold, and I stubbornly won’t close the cold out. It’s too rare and precious in June and I will treasure it, hoard it up, haul out the memory when August has me down and know that it will be lovely and green again.

 

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