It's long been a dream of mine to have a yard that looks and feels like a campground. I had that for ten years, and left it behind -- one piece of a difficult and painful decision. Here I stand, only a few years later, living half a block from an incredible 35,000+ acre greenbelt, crossed with 150 km/93 mi of gorgeous trails.
It was a perfect fall day, and this afternoon found me riding through this arm of the wild park which called out to stop, be still, listen, and breathe. After returning home from doing just that and an hour-long ride, it continued to whisper, so Copper and I wandered back in for our evening walk.
The squirrels were busy, Canada geese honked over in ragged practice formation, and around some of the trail's curves, flaming red and orange maples and bright yellow ash nearly jumped out between the dark green pines, firs and slower-turning oaks.
No matter what kind of struggle we may face, standing, walking, riding, or just being in the oxygen-rich midst of glorious trees helps to put everything in perspective.
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