I am a walker

my husband is not because it doesn't involve gas or motors. He spends his spare time with anything that takes gas - mopeds, three wheelers, motorcycles, leaf blowers, riding lawn mowers. I am sure that if they would make a razor that ran on gasoline, he would own one.

My best days are those when I have the opportunity to pull on my mud boots, pack some water along side my camera in a fanny bag, pick up my walking stick and just start wandering through the hundreds of acres of woods, swamps, and farmland that surround our small cabin.


I climb over fallen trees, creep under tangles of scrub brush, and cross small streams for the chance to see and explore a new area.

My husband will not accompany me on my journeys. He thinks I’m nuts. Even when I can talk him into short little walks on well traveled two tracks, I have to answer his many questions to ease his mind: No, that’s not poison ivy. I would run I stepped on a bee nest. You can’t get lost in one square mile of land (for too long anyway). Bears, mountain lions??? Geez…. we live in an area where a sighting of either would make front page news of every newspaper within a 200 mile radius. If that is how my life ends, by some predatory animal attack, well, maybe the great power above decided my spectacular ending at the very same moment he started my heart.

So I walk alone, which is just fine by me. I see beautiful things, I think through my problems, and find treasures – things like arrowheads, antique brass padlocks, and fawns laying motionless in the grass.



One day, if I am so fortunate, wheels will be a necessity to move me from point A to point B. Until that time comes, I am going to take full advantage of my working legs.