My Walk With Nature At Lake Johnson
I knew today's weather was going to be fairly mild. The forecasters predicted we wouldn't hit above 75 in the North Carolina plains. Somehow, I found myself waking up really early in the morning. The sun was hidden, but avian sounds swirled filling in the void of still dawn. I made my way down to the Raleigh Greenway. The air didn't bite like I thought might happen. After a good two miles, I could finally breathe in the fresh air.
In the distance, I could hear the cooing of an owl. Ducks swam in the distance. A bluejay carried its feather through the air along the pathway. I walked past a log cabin. It was a quaint fixture almost adjacent to the rain-dampened bridge leading to the woods of Lake Johnson. My feet started to buckle as I approached. I recall seing baby turtles swimming underneath it about two or three years ago. So, I took a deep breathe. My heart danced in a rythm even trying to do the flamingo couldn't bring. The sky was shaded grey and the sun was trying to rise and peak through the clouds.
As I walked across my path to my escape from civilization, my eyes were glued to greater depths I was deathly afraid of falling into. Even though, the walk across lasted a good three minutes, near panic began to set in. I've been terrified of even smaller heights--just riding the escalator in the mall could stir fear. So, seeing the stewy waves dance along the sides was a terror I could hardly bare.
So, along the beaten pathway, a good two miles, I notice a map of the eastern and western routes. As I began to gaze at this map I became amazed that my mind can hardly map around its pattern. But, finally I made my way past yet another log cabin. It stood dark, quiet, and quaint.
Not too far away, there was an offshoot path. But, along its trail there was a small pathway that was obstructed by a giant fallen tree wood. The roots of evergreens and the smell of dogwood filled the air and tickled my toes through my shoes. I could hear my ears pop, assuring me I had made my way to a higher elevation. The winding gravel finally leveled off. And there was a second bridge. I couldn't bear the thought of crossing it. The height was higher and the waters deeper. The gurgling of waves sent shivers down my spine.
As I turned right and left and again right after mile after mile the thought that I could be lost immediately passed my mind. But, finally, after nearly three hours, I was finally back home. There, the temperature was usually very warm (no, hot). I was glad the indoor temperature wasn't eighty degrees which unfortunately many times is the case. (I share the temperature controls with three other people. And some of them seem to think sauna weather should be the weather in one's room and throughout the condo.)
Upon my arrival towards the steps I could feel the watery rainy weight wearing me down--my drenched jacket, my hair matted (more curly than normal), my shoes dampened, but I was relieved. I had actually walked at least 10 miles, maybe even more. A brisk three hour walk turned into a slow repetitious movement of my feet sliding across the ground. The reward of a hot shower couldn't have come at a better time.
And yes, I love the rush of adrenaline flowing through my veins. I didn't realize it could come from a small exorcision into the wilderness. The sounds of cars, voices converging over rather dull subjects, and everything relating to everyday life was brushed away beckoning me to places only my mind can usually wonder. It's been a long time since I was able to escape from technology, the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and bask in the wild and wind feeling the rain pour against my skin, feeling the blood purse through my veins. And there is nothing like finally taking the time to escape. And there is nothing like the joy of realizing that I'm only a world away, a few minutes away in fact, from a brewing lake where clouds rise against the placid herizon.
In the distance, I could hear the cooing of an owl. Ducks swam in the distance. A bluejay carried its feather through the air along the pathway. I walked past a log cabin. It was a quaint fixture almost adjacent to the rain-dampened bridge leading to the woods of Lake Johnson. My feet started to buckle as I approached. I recall seing baby turtles swimming underneath it about two or three years ago. So, I took a deep breathe. My heart danced in a rythm even trying to do the flamingo couldn't bring. The sky was shaded grey and the sun was trying to rise and peak through the clouds.
As I walked across my path to my escape from civilization, my eyes were glued to greater depths I was deathly afraid of falling into. Even though, the walk across lasted a good three minutes, near panic began to set in. I've been terrified of even smaller heights--just riding the escalator in the mall could stir fear. So, seeing the stewy waves dance along the sides was a terror I could hardly bare.
So, along the beaten pathway, a good two miles, I notice a map of the eastern and western routes. As I began to gaze at this map I became amazed that my mind can hardly map around its pattern. But, finally I made my way past yet another log cabin. It stood dark, quiet, and quaint.
Not too far away, there was an offshoot path. But, along its trail there was a small pathway that was obstructed by a giant fallen tree wood. The roots of evergreens and the smell of dogwood filled the air and tickled my toes through my shoes. I could hear my ears pop, assuring me I had made my way to a higher elevation. The winding gravel finally leveled off. And there was a second bridge. I couldn't bear the thought of crossing it. The height was higher and the waters deeper. The gurgling of waves sent shivers down my spine.
As I turned right and left and again right after mile after mile the thought that I could be lost immediately passed my mind. But, finally, after nearly three hours, I was finally back home. There, the temperature was usually very warm (no, hot). I was glad the indoor temperature wasn't eighty degrees which unfortunately many times is the case. (I share the temperature controls with three other people. And some of them seem to think sauna weather should be the weather in one's room and throughout the condo.)
Upon my arrival towards the steps I could feel the watery rainy weight wearing me down--my drenched jacket, my hair matted (more curly than normal), my shoes dampened, but I was relieved. I had actually walked at least 10 miles, maybe even more. A brisk three hour walk turned into a slow repetitious movement of my feet sliding across the ground. The reward of a hot shower couldn't have come at a better time.
And yes, I love the rush of adrenaline flowing through my veins. I didn't realize it could come from a small exorcision into the wilderness. The sounds of cars, voices converging over rather dull subjects, and everything relating to everyday life was brushed away beckoning me to places only my mind can usually wonder. It's been a long time since I was able to escape from technology, the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and bask in the wild and wind feeling the rain pour against my skin, feeling the blood purse through my veins. And there is nothing like finally taking the time to escape. And there is nothing like the joy of realizing that I'm only a world away, a few minutes away in fact, from a brewing lake where clouds rise against the placid herizon.