There comes a time in my day when I need to get outside. I'm up early most days getting folks out the door and managing the furry four-footed as well as the feathered two-legged before I can finish a decent cup of tea. The chirp of the phone and the dull hum of the computer grate on my nerves ~ I need the feel of Nature surrounding me for awhile. Mid-morning is when I try to stop and smell the roses or whatever is of olfactory delight in the immediate environment. Bare foot walking days are numbered and while there was a chill in the air, mid-morning was good for such walking. I wore a sweatshirt and one of my nifty knitted hats though.
Considering the influx of activities, my time outside needed to be brief. The bare foot walk down to the lake is just enough time. Feeling everything under the sun under my feet requires attention. Attention to where I step. Attention to how I breathe. Attention to what I think. For if attention wavers, a sharp stone will bring one back to Center rather rapidly.
So I walked past the flowers looking sleepy, the trees just beginning to turn, and down to a lake bereft of any Summer Folk. The lake spread out lazily, a mirror for the trees and sky. Peaceful solitude and sweet beauty. Barefooting. It's not just for breakfast anymore. You can take it well past brunch, in fact.
|A quiet lake.|
|An empty dock.|
|Lake like a mirror.|
|Happy feet on the moss.|
|Sun dancing in water.|
|A journal page that included my sunny side up eggs.|