Evening wandering

My children think this blog is boring, that all I write about is nature.  They boldly declare that anyone who would want to read it must lead a life just as uneventful as mine. I can only hope that thirty years from now, they will feel differently.

Particularly in these waning days of summer, I notice how the outdoors has become more important to me. The openness and simplicity mirrors the unconfined feeling of clarity I long for, making it inevitable, it seems, that the places and spaces where I feel most grounded have become a prominent theme.

Last week, while missing my friends terribly, I needed more than the outdoors of the backyard.  I needed nature. Even a promise of frozen yogurt -- and that the adventure would be brief -- could not temp my family to accompany me, so I took the short drive to my favorite nature area and embarked on a solo sunset walk.

As I paused to pick a few blackberries, my narrow shadow stretched far down the path, tuned in to the rustle of tiny creatures below, betrayed only by the movement of tufts far above their heads. The first berry was bitter. But it reminded me to choose more carefully so they come off the vine sweet with the taste of my grandma's farm.

The sun receded further, transferring its glow to the wild grass and cottonwood, in reassurance that the presence of light would remain even as the source journeyed on. Tall fir trees blackened while splashes of orange, lavender and pink were sent into the small clouds that framed a pure white sickle moon. Far off over the Coast Range, the afterglow lit a thin line of clouds brilliantly on fire.

Just as I was thinking the only interesting wildlife I might see were the nutria tumbling around feeding on greens in the pond, two great white egrets swooped in together over the grassland in search of their evening roost.  Before they continued their passage, they performed a magical dance in the little valley, their color profoundly vivid against the fading world.

I still took my anti-nature family to frozen yogurt.  On the way back home, the moon was absolutely stunning in the dark.  I said, "Look at the crisp moon against the indigo sky!" Ali quipped from the back seat, "Who thinks like that.  It's just not normal." Maybe that's why I need the outdoors.