Be forewarned, this article is about a ramble where nothing outstanding, amazing or spectacular occurs. Or maybe it does. ...
My mode these days is geared toward mindfulness. Having read a number of noteworthy books on the subject (my current read an awesome book by Rohan Gunatillake called “Modern Mindfulness”), I’ve decided that today I will engage in my own personal version of walking meditation, attempting to tune out the barrage of background noise in my head and tune into the here and now, focused purely upon the array of wonders set before me by Mother Nature. Jesse is moving rather slowly today, an ideal pace, as it encourages me to proceed likewise, taking the time to truly appreciate all that surrounds me.
To start with, there is the symphony that is the plethora of birdsong. Amidst this, a thrush sits atop a towering spruce, beak raised to the sky, warbling its melodic song, welcoming us into his world. Somewhat comedic, and seemingly in retort, a catbird shrieks the raucous mew for which it is named, admonishing us to keep our distance.
A string of swallows sits perched upon electric wires, breaking from their relaxation with elegant dives and swoops before returning to rest beside their cronies. A short distance down the towpath is a group of geese that is far more than a gaggle and much more like an entire town, waddling along with their almost-full-grown progeny in tow. Up ahead, a kingfisher maneuvers effortlessly, gliding above the surface of the canal.
Jesse and I saunter along the towpath in sync with the sluggish current of the waterway. Weeping tree branches droop overhead, limbs reaching into the water. Many of the trees lining the canal are grand in girth, humungous in height. They are hundreds of years old and will remain long after we are gone.