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| Native American Bent Tree north of Leonard and Gerst Road, northeast side of Polly Ann Trail |
I tie my hiking boots at 3:15
p.m. New Year’s Day. I’ve anticipated this moment with each email I’ve typed
and item checked off my Action Log. At last, I open the door and escape insufferable
technology terminology and surmounting roadblocks within the book publishing
industry.
This modern age tolerates nothing slower than the
speed of light, nothing older than tomorrow’s invention.
Meanwhile,
my husband waits in his car, an auspicious siesta. After fifty years of
marriage, such simple things grow into a wife’s lifestyle.
I
unwind as Mel drives us three miles north into Leonard. I’ve seen the streets
of this sleepy little town peopled in July, celebrating their trademark
Strawberry Festival; and Halloween’s Trick-or-Treaters, a scary and hilarious
parade since Big Foot and his wife set up housekeeping amongst them.
Mel
parks in the Polly Ann Trail lot. He prefers the path leading northeast beyond
Gerst Road and my beloved Native American Bent Tree to a newly installed
bridge.
But
he surprises me. “Let’s walk into the sun.”
“Good
idea.” I lift my face to the bright, blue sky and breathe the cold, clean air.
All
is well.
Snow
and ice crunch under our boots. Huge footprints on my side point east. Must be
Kyle’s, the neighborhood’s Big Foot. The gentlest man I know.
We’ve
never passed Kyle and Charlotte on the trail. They work fulltime with travel from
and to this hamlet.
My
mind wanders into similar hypothetical territory when walking on a wooded track
kept in excellent condition by Polly Ann Trail Manager, Linda Moran.
This
glorious freedom to let our mind loose is free. Well, we pay a minimal cost to
Addison Township’s general fund determined by the number of our population.
Even
so, it’s worth the fee to refresh the imagination and exercise the body within
the shelter of trees, wildflowers, and ponds of Spring Peepers. Depending on
the season.
I
recall a splendid spring day last year. We parked our car and turned east. As we
approached Leonard’s Old Mill, shrills of laughter descended from Leonard
Elementary School set up on a hill out of view. The closer we walked toward the
playground, the louder the cries of laughter.
“It
must be recess,” I said and slowed my steps.
Recess.
A wonderful word. Thing. Although I could not see the playground, I heard and
felt the children’s joy at chase and play.
Now
we end our walk west on a winter afternoon, the barren trees on the Polly Ann
Trail awash with sunset. The golden thoroughfare of Rochester Road leads us home.
Dear
Reader, as the 33rd Chapter of Deuteronomy declares, “Blessed be God
for the precious things of heaven, for the dew and for the deep that coucheth
beneath, and for all the precious fruits brought forth by the sun and for the
precious things put forth by the moon, and for the precious things of the
lasting hills.
And
for the chief things of the ancient mountains.”
Nature
is slow and old. She speaks my language.
