Day 330 Alas, Deer Yorick

November 4, 2015

(If we live with an open and grateful attitude, every day will bring a gift. This is one of 365 gifts during the year I turned 70.)

A few deer bones among the fallen leaves

It seemed a waste not to go walking outdoors on a day like today, so David and I set out from our house to a few blocks away where we could enter a heavily wooded area, Anne Arundel County property managed by the Department of Natural Resources. There was a warning sign posted that it would not be safe to enter on a few particular days where there would be open hunting to help control the deer population. I am glad that today was not one of the posted days. 

Today we noticed that what used to be visible paths a few years ago no longer existed. There has always been an absence of trail blaze markers and this time we encountered lots of fallen tree parts, sticker bushes and even mushrooms growing on what used to be a trail. We explored with an eye to the topography and sun position. 

We stopped to examine what appeared to be the remains of a deer, dry white bones picked clean long ago.  In our neighborhood “wild woods,” we walked to the sound of crunching leaves and only a few remaining crickets. “Stop and listen,” David urged. We stood still and heard the delicate sound of leaves falling all around us. Our adventure today—the bones, crunching leaves and diminishing daylight—was a reminder of temporal days and ever-changing time. We could hear the falling leaves today but in the next season, we will listen to the falling snow.

My gift today is the sound of falling leaves.

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You can find links to my other posts on this project here:
http://bjschupp.blogspot.com/2014/12/365-gifts.html

Day 120 Bedazzled

April 8, 2015

(This is part of a 365 project during my 70th year where I write and illustrate a blog on each day's gift.)

The rhythm of rain on the roof and water pouring down the spout greeted me as I stretched in bed this morning. I had planned to walk in the park today and the rain did not matter. I’ve discovered that damp days in the woods have a magical calming effect. The park seems to take on a different personality. In the sun, I hear children’s voices echo on the playground and see shadows stalk me on the ground; in the rain, sounds becomes muffled, dampness surrounds me like a cocoon and I can easily slip into another world, another layer. 

Today I pulled onto an empty parking lot and, except for the staff, I was the only human there. But I was not alone. I was accompanied on my walk by the constant avian chatter above as light drizzle tapped on my umbrella. It was the kind of light rain that teased every twig, every leaf, every bud, by clinging, drop by drop in the emerald woods. Liquid spheres, each reflecting its world, were multiplied in the trees by billions. I squinted my eyes and looked through my eyelashes at the wonderland that surrounded me, sparkling like diamonds. I was bedazzled.

After a couple miles, I returned to the parking lot just as another car pulled up. Out of all the spaces available, the pickup truck parked right next to my car. Is there something so strong in human nature, something yearning for connection so much, that on an empty parking lot with ample spaces, someone would park next to the only car on the lot?

My gift today is a diamond forest.

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> Day 121 Forgetting

You can find links to my other posts on this project here:
http://bjschupp.blogspot.com/2014/12/365-gifts.html