Yesterday, my Bible study directed me to witness God’s creation by taking a walk and observing what I saw. What a great change from quiet contemplation, I thought, and scrambled to get some sandals on, so that I might begin the day’s journey.
I decided to focus on nature rather than manmade structures although that’s not easy to do as I live in a rather crowded senior neighborhood with dozens of condos within sight. And it was hard not to notice the rather steep driveway as I climbed up it.
The first thing that caught my attention was just to the left of the driveway. It was a honeysuckle plant showing off its full summer foliage as a bird might its plumage. I was happy that I could look at its abundant buds but saddened by the fact that I couldn’t smell it very much. My nose has been the first of my bodily parts to fail me. Nonetheless, I buried my head in the bush and tried to remember how lovely it smells. And I picked up a flower that had fallen to the ground and held it to my nose and smelled a slight, but lovely fragrance. The flower was the first of my treasures that I picked up to journal about my “creation walk.”
The next thing that caught my attention was odd indeed. At the top of the driveway, I turned to the right to venture further up the hill stopping to admire the old gnarled tree that grows there with huge branches practically hugging the ground that tempt one to climb – even one as old as I am. The nearest branch stretches some 8 feet from the trunk just a couple of feet off the ground and would be lovely to at least sit on if the tree weren’t perched on the side of a hill with an incline of 10 or 15 feet. Even so, I was tempted as I always am when I walk by.
In fact, I was giving the idea of a little climb considerable thought when I spied a piece of paper caught in the ground cover below the branch about 5 feet from the sidewalk just where the slope really begins. Normally, I wouldn’t be interested in a piece of paper, but this piece of paper looked oddly familiar and I thought for all the world that the handwriting looked like mine. Of course, it was too far away to really see, but…
Curiosity kills the cat, and it caused me to risk my neck, literally. I tried to get a good foothold with my right foot in the ground cover – wishing that I’d put on some proper walking shoes instead of a flimsy pair of sandals – while stepping out and down the very steep slope with my left. It was an unstable stance and I would have to lean way over to grab my prize. As I did, I knew that I was just at the tipping point. If I leaned one degree too far, I was going to tumble head over heel down the side of the hill and probably break my damn neck. Breathe in, reach, gently grasp. Now what? I ever so carefully asked the right side of my body to pull the rest of me back to an upright position. Phew. That was close. And stupid.
Except that the piece of paper was one that I had written on and torn in half before throwing it in my recycle bin which had been picked up by the trash company the day before. How had the paper blown out of the truck? And when? Had it just blown out yesterday or had it been hiding here a week? And more importantly, what other papers had blown out with it? I’m not the last condo on the road, so how could my note make it to the top of all of my neighbors’ stuff and float down into the bedding underneath this big old tree. Although there was nothing private on it, finding it gave me the willies and made me think that I may start using a shredder more often.
Breathing a bit easier having survived my escapade, I jammed the note into my pocket when I saw another manmade object; so much for focusing on God’s creation. Just beside the sidewalk right where my grandson parks when he comes to visit, I saw a rusty screw about an inch and a quarter long – just lying in wait to puncture someone’s unsuspecting tire. I put that in my pocket as well.
Breathe.
Walk.
Another 100 yards or so up the street, I stopped beside the meditation garden that some folks had apparently built some time past. What I noticed today, though, was that the sign which indicates that this gathering of rocks is a meditation garden was missing. I’m sad the sign is gone. Without it one might not realize the purpose of this little piece of land although it is clearly of human design rather than the delightful randomness that nature prides herself on.
Feeling adventurous after my earlier near miss, I decided to step into and beyond the collection of carefully place rocks. As I did, I must admit that it felt a little as if I were walking in a cemetery, so I quickened my pace and walked toward what appeared to be a path. However, as I looked down, it was obvious that the clearing I was in had been planted with a groundcover that hadn’t done well although there were still a number of bees buzzing about. I decided to check out the path ahead anyway, until I realized that it petered out in about 50 feet giving way to quite a bit of dry underbrush growing under the trees.
I turned around to start back and then decided to check out a piece of a fence that I’d noticed before on earlier walks. It looked like the chain link you see along golf courses except that it was in the middle of nowhere on another side of the slope I’d just tried to kill myself on earlier. There’s nothing to fence in here, but the truly off thing, I noticed as I grew closer, is that the portion of the fence was actually two pieces that stood at about a 45 degree angle from each other – a triangle of fence pieces missing one third of the triangle at the top of the hill. Still don’t know what a fence is doing out there, but I left it behind and meandered back thru the dried ground cover when yet another manmade object caught my attention right in front of me. Since reaching for it posed no threat to my health, I bent down and dug out the golf ball embedded there. There is a golf course just at the entrance to this development. I wonder if this hill used to be a part of it somehow.
So what is the take away here? I was directed to go out and ponder God’s creation on this beautiful late spring day. I hear the birds and even spy a hummingbird although the huge crows are loudly demanding one’s attention. I shiver a bit in the ocean breeze which is blowing briskly making my tank top a less than ideal choice, but I bask in the soft morning sunshine that has parted the clouds of the customary June gloom. It’s a perfect day. What is not to admire?
A fallen flower petal my only natural treasure. This plus my own handwritten note. A thick rusty screw lying in wait for its victim. And a long ago buried golf ball. This I take back home. There must be a lesson here, but I’m durned if I know what it is.
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