"The Lonely Trail" Frogs and Toads

It was getting late as the sun aimed for the sea in the west. The weekend was quickly coming to a close. I suddenly had the urge to escape to one of my favorite places - a hidden canyon whose trails knew me well - a place I felt I could walk blindfolded and still see.

Only two hours remained before stars awoke to gaze down on a nocturnal world. Soon after I had left my car and was upon the trail - I started to sense something strange - something odd. Perhaps I should be saying - I sensed my lack of senses.

Here I was - late in the day - at a time when all nature opens her lungs and fills the air with life, with song, whether it be the beautiful whistle of a bird, or the chirp of a cricket - it is the song of nature.

My mind swirled with the thoughts of the day gone by and it was this day that led me to this escape - this canyon whose trails knew me well.

I looked high into the sycamores' crowns - its branches cradling a sleepy sky - but where were the birds - their songs, their chatter. A voice within me suddenly stopped me to say, "Listen, it's a Wren Tit." "No," I said. "It can't be. That's a Towhee no doubt." For that moment I could hear.

But soon I started to look inward again - thinking over the day's events. The day was in a large way, a sad day, but in another way - it was a day of beginning. A day of strengthening bonds. The canyon sounds were drowned out as tears fought their way out of eyes and into the the cool air - now rushing down the hillsides to greet me at the canyon bottom. I actually felt this coolness, but something too was missing here. These early evening breezes always greet the traveler with a potpourri of scents - smells of drying spring and summer grasses, of hillside fennel, of creekside willows and mulefat. it is the smell of nature which always pleases me and surprises me at my ability to smell so many scents.

I noted in my journal at the send of my hike how I missed the feel of the soft earth under my boots and the color of the sunset. My emotions were too wound up to allow my senses to come alive.

On the trail, let go and let nature sink in.