Simple, Like A Breath of Fresh Air

I wish I had a picture to post with this entry, but I think it would take away from the word picture I'm trying to paint anyway. So no picture for you.

One foot in front of the other. Late afternoon sun casting leafy shadows on the pavement. June bugs humming, cows mooing, flies buzzing. The heat permeates the air with the sweet smell of blackberries. Things that slowly, but steadily pass through my peripheral vision as I focus on the road ahead: railroad tracks, a small country school, a picturesque cemetery, a Victorian house with a white picket fence, a beautiful, lazy river cutting its way through hills and trees, a mountain. Favorite familiar songs on my iPod fill my mind with distraction and motivation enough to keep putting one foot in front of the other as I wipe sweat from my forehead and fan myself with my t-shirt. It feels good to breathe hard with the sun beating down on me. As the late September afternoon turns into an early September evening with a harvest moon against the periwinkle sky that meets the earth along a jagged line of pine tree tips, I turn the corner onto Creamery Lane. My mom's flowers in the front yard are so pretty, and our grass is green, soft and refreshingly wet after being watered. I pat my dog on the head as she sits on the doorstep, her pink tongue hanging out of her mouth and her tail swishing from side to side. (Lady used to come on runs with me, but can't now because she's been getting seizures. Sad.) I sit down beside my dog, who lays her head in my lap - endearing - and gaze across our yard, across the small country road, across our neighbor's yard to the impressive Mt. Shasta. Even without snow it can put on a show.

That's a slice of my day. I wish I always appreciated things like I appreciated them today. Sometimes my runs through Edgewood are like an overwhelmingly simple breath of fresh air.