September 8th, 2006

abstract butterfly

trail story

"Out of the gulf into the glory,
Father, my soul cries out to be lifted.
Dark is the woof of my dismal story,
Thorough thy sun-warp stormily drifted!—
Out of the gulf into the glory,
Lift me, and save my story"--George MacDonald

People remarked last night at the local bar association meeting about my recent weight loss. I come to mark sins these days in terms of dinner rolls consumed. Now that the heat is broken, a no-longer-young man's attentions turn to kites unflown and hiking trails unassayed. I like to walk our local Trinity Trail, a nine-mile round trip, at least a time or two a year. I believe it has nearly been a year since I walked the longer section of trail to which I refer. I like the way that mid-way in, one comes upon a place that feels so isolated and yet friendly, somehow. It's not that remote--after all, it's an open-air hiking trail not far from civilization--but it feels less lived-in. I have work to do this weekend, which may distract me, but, otherwise, I intend to take a long walk on a cool trail--failing which, I will simply fly a kite.