The walk through the valley isn’t long. After clambering down the mountain, the trip to my destination is only another mile or so. Down near the old summer camp is a small pond, and I like to end my walk here before I turn around and head back up the mountain to my cabin. The pond isn’t more than a few acres, but even so, those few acres give me a nice, open view of the sky, where I can enjoy the sun and see vultures or hawks circle up above. And in fall, especially on a calm day, I like to try and capture the reflections of the yellow or orange trees when I take a photo.
However long I stay by the side of the pond, it is never long enough. Sometimes I can lose hours here, stretched out in the grass staring into the sky. Sometimes it takes a chilly breeze or the intrusion of dampness to get me moving again. Too often, though, thoughts of all that is left undone back up on the mountain, back in my life, begin to intrude. I suppose it’s good that something eventually intrudes or I would likely lay there forever. That would be so easy to do.