Tuesday, December 18, 2012

pajamas in the woods

When I've been house bound too long, the call of the wild can set in on me like a fever. I have an idea Nature is the best healing salve a body's got and I'd been neglecting that salvation. The beauty of having dogs and living in a suburban/urban place is they need to be walked. Which means you need to get outside. There have been plenty of days lately where I've simply let one dog out at a time. (I live at the end of the community where woods are easily to the north and west of us ~ so, on occasion, I do the lazy dog ownership thing and just let them out. One at a time though. If they both go out then they're gone for half an hour on An Explore.) Rather than standing at the top of my stoop shouting "Go pee!" I thought it better to BE outside. Dirk's out door cue is the chickens. They need to be let out of the coop, no matter the weather, fed and watered and, if we're lucky here in the middle of winter, collect eggs. So when Dirk mentioned he was on his way out, I decided to join him, leashing Bodhi (Crystal runs loose) and slipping on my Mucks pajama-clad.

Going outdoors does not require much more than simple garb. No need to get gussied up. Pajamas fit the bill as long as one possesses a pair of Mucks or some such footwear and a warm coat. Luckily, this morning was balmy for mid-winter thus negating the need for, oh let's say, snow pants.

Another misty mountain hop.
Mists in the woods makes for some ethereal walking. Stark bare trees against the fog invites one to look at Nature closely. Yes, I know the mountain is beyond the pale grayness, but what mattered at that moment, at that moment, was the immediate environment. The ground covered in leaves made glossy by rain ~ mostly brown, but still like lesser-brilliant jewels and metals. Amber, citrine, bronze. No opals or emeralds or gold, nothing splashy or garish  Soft and abiding colors 'neath my Mucks. Although, I did note the green moss peeking through here and there, its colors did not clash or scream against the surrounding comforting hues. The air's scent a heady moisture, as I breathed in cool, refreshing air without winter's usual bite. The tree branches anointed my brow with drops of water inviting me, for a time, to be One of Their Own ~ stark, still, bare, rooted. It is in these sorts of moments I am renewed . . . even while still in pajamas.

1 comment:

Ashling said...

Sigh. Feeling a tad envious, but so glad you'be got such glorious sanctuary.