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| Story ID: | 4166 |
| Written by: | Virginia Allain (bio, link, contact, other stories) |
| Organization: | none |
| Story type: | Musings, Essays and Such |
| Location: | East Wakefield New Hampshire USA |
| Year: | 2008 |
| Person: | Ginger Allain |
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Being retired means forgetting about deadlines and "to do" lists. In the summer, I take full advantage of this to luxuriate in nature and slow down to a pace that I never dreamed of in my type A days as a library director. Then I worked in full communication mode with a phone braced against my ear while I checked my email, then shuffled the paper mail spilling across my overflowing desk. Thank goodness I didn't have a blackberry too. Now it's summer and I write a letter to my mother, then start the walk to the mailbox about half a mile away. When accompanied by my husband, the walk takes a mere twenty minutes round trip. On my own, it stretches out to a full hour or longer. I walk slowly watching for mushrooms to photograph. This means peering under low branches and ferns and keeping alert for a rounded shape among last year's leaves and pine needles. I'm elated to find new types of mushrooms. How many kinds can there be? I like the ones shaped like snickerdoodle cookies with too much cinnamon sprinkled across the top. Another one looked like a white coral reef. Lately I'm finding ones that mimic hamburger buns in size and color. How fun. Looking for mushrooms brings me down to a level where I see many things I'd normally miss. There's a daddy long legs spider with its spindly legs silhouetted on top a flat mushroom cap. I hear a whir and then a grasshopper lands nearby. It won't stay still, so I focus on the spider this time. It obligingly arranges itself in a variety poses for my camera. I exhaust my interest in that spider and mushroom, and start again for the mailbox. Now I spot a touch of blue. Knowing it's unlikely to be a mushroom, I lift the leaves looking for blueberries. The reward, a handful of small berries, makes a burst of flavor in my mouth. I hunt for more and find enough to fill my palm three more times. Mushroom hunting dictates a slow pace, so I saunter along the sandy road. Not rushing feels so good. I'm rewarded this time by a flicker of movement about thigh-high. Peering into the woods, I see that it's a chipmunk on a tall stump. He's aware of me, but not alarmed enough to flee. Gradually I raise the camera, adjust the setting, and snap four shots. Edging around to get a better angle, I put the chipmunk to flight. I wanted to call after him, "don't go, I won't hurt you." I keep silent as I know my voice would only frighten him more. At last I reach the mailbox and post the letter. Before turning back, I continue to the lake. Walking down the boat ramp, I hope for another chipmunk sighting. The steep bank, with small holes under the tree roots, makes perfect hidey holes for the small creature. To him it must seem like a cliff. Last year I captured several chipmunk poses with my camera in this spot. I used to link my happiness to job achievement and pushed myself to greater and greater levels of productivity. Now I reverse the process. Happiness is wandering through the New Hampshire woods in summertime. Happiness is catching a glimpse of a small furry creature, observing a spider close-up, and discovering a mushroom totally new to me. Slowing down brings rewards I never thought of when we made our retirement plans. ( *This was written as a writing class exercise. Here are the guidelines. Ten-minute freewrite: Write for 10-minutes without stopping (this can feel like a long time). Use the following words somewhere in your freewrite: cliff needle voice whir blackberry mother an emotion (you choose) |
