The loop through the woods, down to the creek, up the lumber path, across the forest, past the spring and around the convergence wasn’t the first loop. The first loop was left for us when we got here, mown right into the pasture that surrounds our house. Abby called it the meditation loop because we can do it with our eyes closed, and sometimes we do.
In the evening, or the early morning with a cup of coffee, it can feel automatic to circumambulate the fire pit, the old spring, the dip. I’ve found that we walk this loop far less in the winter. Ironically I believe it’s because we’re outside less.
In the summer you’ll be drinking tea or eating breakfast and it’ll occur to you to stroll, barefoot, around, maybe part of the way, maybe twice. In the winter, setting out is a choice. You put on your boots, your spikes, your jacket, you gear up and prepare. The preparation can dictate the journey.
In the evening, or the early morning with a cup of coffee, it can feel automatic to circumambulate the fire pit, the old spring, the dip. I’ve found that we walk this loop far less in the winter. Ironically I believe it’s because we’re outside less.
In the summer you’ll be drinking tea or eating breakfast and it’ll occur to you to stroll, barefoot, around, maybe part of the way, maybe twice. In the winter, setting out is a choice. You put on your boots, your spikes, your jacket, you gear up and prepare. The preparation can dictate the journey.
