Nurture your Nature

2 hours after solstice

2 hours after solstice

Standing on the brink of the creek

it is the vertigo that nauseates; common sense that will not let me let go. The water trickles down below, sad vestige of the flash flood. Naismith Valley's merely a ditch. A deadly ditch 10 feet down when calm, raging with each rainfall. They've mowed the grass up to the edge, leaving only a fringe of

Queen Anne's Lace and yellow clover,

the cheerful frill of yellow along long stems, white saucers of tiny florets clinging to the spokes of floral umbrellas. Faint scent, but it is movement in the water that catches my eye as

2 long necked turtles paddle slowly

in the shallows. They are 15 inch ovals, odd sight to see in ditch. So large beneath

the grape vines,

dangling ropes traipsing through the ash and shrubs as

fireflies

twinkle in and out, yellow-green stars that move through gloaming. It is two hours after the solstice and I'm

helping a worm cross the walkway,

wiggling as I scoot it over with the notepad's edge.

The robin on a fence

flies off. Have I denied him a late evening dinner?

A white spot hops into the bushes

at the edge of sight, only the white is perceived. In olden days, when two threads, one white, one black, appeared as one, it was officially night, but the rabbit wouldn't know this.

I collect the scent of honeysuckle to place in my pocket,

the ivory flowers, the spent yellowed petals, and try to

avoid the dog poop on the path.

It is ten feet wide, a ribbon of light concrete, bisecting the deepening dark that opens up to a glade.

The vernal pond is still with water;

there is no drought today; yet all is quiet, no peeping frogs. Even the bird twitter has hushed

along the squishy path

where I avoid the ticks and mosquitoes of a not-so-distant memory. None today. I walk to the end of 26th Street and up the macadam road to home.

The indented portions are extrapolations of the original list of notes. This was the path I took tonight. Next time you go for a walk ... observe, write, edit and then share.

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