The River Summons!

I awaken by the desire to drift on a lazy river someplace. Maybe it was remnants a of dream or just the instinctive desire to be near water. Whichever, I decide to head toward water. My ship is small but quite worthy; it will navigate the waters I have chosen. I gather my essentials and load my equipment…it is nice when your ship will easily fit in the back of a pick-up truck. My portage requires about 40 minutes of driving time to arrive at the water’s edge.

The air is lukewarm but it’s a beautiful morning under cloudy skies. The drive to the water is beautiful. It’s along a serpentine blacktop that traverses the countryside of one of the bordering counties. With the windows of the truck rolled down, I welcome the fragrance of spring. Ah yes, the aroma of fresh trees, flowers and fresh air.

Screeeeeeeeech….I quickly come to a stop in the road. What’s this? Something impedes my travels, a detour, and a long way around. Don’t they know? I need to get to the river. Well, it seems that there will be quite a few chickens that will not have to go the slaughter house. However, I believe the only survivor was the “chicken truck” driver.

Finally, I’m at the water’s edge. The river is flat, mirrored and inviting. Once on the water I paddle up stream to the bridge. It’s a very tall bridge from the boat. I paddle further to the see the remains of the old bridge, now nothing more than a wide column of rocks with trees growing from it. I would have loved to have seen the old bridge. I’m certain it was dignified in its day.

Just past the old bridge I encounter two Canada geese. They are squawking and honking in disapproval but otherwise ignore me. I spend approximately two and half hours on the water just drifting and paddling up and down stream. It has been a good morning. I needed that time on the water; the bond with nature was also needed. I will return.

If my ship sails from sight, it doesn't mean my journey ends; it simply means the river bends.

Rain

The morning greets me with the gentle sound of rain falling. I lie there listening to that rhythmic noise. My body feels stiff but rested from the night of sleep but the rain excites me; I arise from my slumber to open the windows in the house so that I may hear the sounds of rain and smell the freshness in the air. There is no scent like that of a falling rain. It fills the air with a newness that is unmatched. The air outside is warm enough to don shorts and tee shirt. I decide to go outside sans shoes to embrace that luscious rain. The cool, supple wet grass feels great underfoot. It makes me feel like a youngster in the rain. It’s thoroughly exhilarating. I am always dismayed when I hear someone say that it’s, “such a crappy or lousy day”, when it rains. I always beg to differ, it’s a splendid day.

Criticism, like rain, should be gentle enough to nourish a man's growth without destroying his roots.

Value

It has always been evident to me that anything worth having doesn’t come effortless. In other words, nothing is free, you have to work for it or earn it in some way. So it’s the same when it comes to gardening. You have to work that soil; you have to keep plants watered, especially here in the southeast. But hopefully, the end result will be a beautiful and bountiful garden.

The broccoli and bib lettuce are looking good. I have also planted 6 varieties of tomatoes, sweet banana peppers and some cucumbers.
I’m reminded of a quote:

Gardening requires lots of water - most of it in the form of perspiration.

Feed the Need

As I climb from my bed, looking at the windows; no sunlight yet. I check the clock, 5:40 am. Even the sun isn’t awake yet. I drag myself down the hall for the morning ritual. Feed the two cats, make coffee and check the weather. Checking the weather means walking outside to get a bona fide feel for the temperature. Weather gurus have no idea what the temps are in my neck of the woods. It feels great out there, around 40 degrees. Perfect for running and it should get a bit warmer into the run.
The plans today; go up to Bethel Baptist Church for a Boogie Loop. The Boogie is a 50-mile run conducted every June on a 10-mile loop starting at the aforementioned church. It’s a very hilly course in which one doesn’t seem to ever catch his or her breath. However, it’s a very beautiful course that crosses Mountain Creek and parallels the Great Pee Dee River along Grassy Island Road.
Bethel Baptist Church sits on top of Pea Ridge which extends across the northwestern part of the county. We meet at 8:30 am for our 10-mile run. The skies are very clear and you can see for many miles over into Montgomery and Anson Counties.
I am joined by fellow runners, Rosemary, Jerry and Kyle. Just the four of us embark on the hills of Ellerbe. As always, the beginning miles are slow and lethargic; body is trying to loosen up. The course has one hill that we affectionately call Bethel, its 1.5 miles long. We run down that hill and then back up for the first part of the loop. After descending and then ascending Bethel Hill we now have 6-miles remaining. Kyle and I have split from Rosemary and Jerry. Kyle is a tall lanky 24 year-old that can run like a gazelle. Even though he is running well within himself, I’m struggling just to hang with him. I like to run with Kyle. He restores my confidence that all of the youth of America are not lazy and non-ambitious.
We all finally make it back to the church under gorgeous and much needed sunshine. That vitamin D feels great. We say our goodbyes and head back to our homes. From there, I make a trip to the store for some plants. Today a planted broccoli and lettuce along with two raspberry bushes. Hopefully, they all will grow into something edible.
Today has been a good day. More and more I find deep appreciation for the small successes in life. I end with this quote:

The best kind of friend is the one you could sit on a porch with, never saying a word, and walk away feeling like that was the best conversation you've had. ~Author Unknown

The Run

As I step out of the truck I see a couple on the other side of the parking lot. They are talking, smiling and appear to be enjoying each others company. The air is tepid for a late October day. It’s around 1:00 p.m.; I’m at the park for my run. As I briefly watch them, I am reminded of my years when I wore a younger mans attire, when I was running after lasses, instead of running after youth and fitness.

I make my way to the trail to begin my run around the park. The autumn air feels exhilarating flowing in and out of my lungs. The trees are starting to transform to red, yellow, brown and the many hues that make the autumn such a splendid image to behold. The sumac has lost its leaves and the berries are all bundled in a rust tinted cluster. The tulip poplars glimmer with yellow and the leaves have begun a steady surge to earth. Other than the pine trees, the miles of kudzu are the only greenery remaining in the park. Winter is being shoveled in.

I press the button on my watch to record my efforts for the day. Immediately, my body wants to rebuff. These days it seems to take much longer for my body to loosen up or relax. Nonetheless, I have no intentions of stopping or giving up. I have too many miles to go before I follow the tulip poplar leaves back to earth.

These are the days I treasure the most, when everything seems to flow or drift with poise. If only all days could be like this one. As I scamper around the park trail I appreciate just how perfect this day is. I find myself yearning for more days like this one, days when my senses are stoked and everything is enlightened.

My thoughts revolve back to the run. I have already covered the 6-miles I had planned for the day. I found myself surprised that it was over, lost in the euphoria of it all. I decide to walk an extra loop around the park just to be able to observe and immerse myself in more of the autumn day.

John Muir was correct when he said. “In every walk with nature one receives far more than he seeks.”