Imbolc Valentine Moon
Ruth and I went for a long walk yesterday at Meyer Ranch Open Space Park. Gertie, our wire haired German pointer, came with us. Along the way we talked about a possible erratic (“I know what an erratic is,” Ruth said.) because it’s top had jagged, thin sheets exposed. I wondered why it hadn’t eroded.
We saw huge Lodgepole pines that had recently been cut to protect power lines in an easement running up Doublehead Mountain. When I started to count the rings on one stump easily 3 feet wide, Ruth asked, “Are you going to count all of them?” Yes, I was. The tree was between 75 and 80 years old. We’d been alive for much of the same time.
The trail went took went through forest. Ruth picked up branches along the way to make rings. I told her I admired how she found things to make wherever she went. “It’s good to have projects.” “Yes,” she said, “I have two, three, maybe five projects at home.” Ruth paints, sews, does fashion design, builds robots and reads in a way that gives me a shock of recognition.
Meanwhile, Gertie pulled me along, straining to get to the smells along the side of the trail. We rarely walk our dogs since they have a fenced in yard to roam, so they’re leashed train only enough to get into the vet and out. When we got back to the Rav4, we were all tired.
