Did you ever…

4 11 2007

Did you ever do something that just reeked of adventure for no reason at all? Anyone can feel that adventurous spirit when they’re diving out of planes or eating puffer fish prepared by a greasy man in Chinatown. But what about when you are doing something as ordinary as two sticks? It is the strangest sensation.

For example, today I went for a walk. I put on my tennis shoes and my still-damp running clothes and grabbed my iPod. Recently I purchased Daniel Bedingfield’s first CD. It was the perfect choice for a day like today. It’s as gray as Seattle today, with overcast skies and five o’clock light. So a CD like this one with crazy dance beats and solid lyrics would do much to lift the mood that gray skies inspire.

We’ve a path that goes around the bay. The first bit is a raised boardwalk but after that it leads through people’s yards, over concrete pilings and scum-covered rocks. I’d never got more than ten minutes along it. After that it curves downwards to the water or upwards through the neighborhoods. I usually go through the neighborhood and visit my favorite grave in the graveyard.

Well today I decided to go further along by the water.

But let me back up a bit. The familiar part of the path goes through areas where you are completely shielded by trees and ferns. I absolutely could not resist the urge and did random bouts of hip-hop where no-one could see. I mean full-on pop and locking, with a little jazz thrown in. (You can see how funny this would have looked. I have NO knowledge of hip hop.)

I went past my favorite house where my two doggy friends were locked in their yard. Normally the would both dash out to meet me but the lab was too big to fit under the fence. The little dog, a long-haired white and brown concoction, squirted under the fence and came over to lick my hands and say ‘hello’. I blew a kiss at the lab and moved on.

Then to the dividing point. I walked through a very well-kept yard, feeling hideously guilty the whole time. I found the concrete pathway-pilings bit and set off. I can see how this part of the path would be impassable at high tide. Daniel Bedingfield crooning in my ears I was having a jolly time.

And then, off in the distance and approaching slowly I saw a jumper that I know well. Graham had beat me to it and was coming back from his walk. I waved and skipped to meet him. We stopped and chatted about Sci-fi and my night at Bryan and Cheryl’s. He offered to walk on with me but I told him that I was off on a walk ‘all by me onesies’.

We parted and I went on.

I had no idea where I was going and at one point two options presented themselves to me. To the left was a continuation of the concrete block path. To the right, though, was a green archway that smelled faintly of the rainforest at the zoo. It bent after only ten feet or so and I couldn’t see where it led. If I went by the water I would know fairly well where I was going. If I took the wooded path I would be utterly lost and would have to trust in the path to get me somewhere. By this time I was completely gripped by the adventure of it all and did the obvious thing; I chose the woods.

The first thing I noticed was a dead rat. Not a pretty thought, certainly, but it was the sweetest looking rodent corpse ever. It even seemed to smile a little. Following close on the heels of the rat, though, was the overwhelming sensation of being in Jurassic Park. I kept waiting for raptors to spring from the bushes or the frilly ones to hiss.

Then it happened. I’d been smelling fantastic smells all day. The flowers were glorious and the air was heavy with them. I began to smell another lovely scent followed close by a curve in the path. Around the bend was a tree, tall enough that I couldn’t see the leaves clearly, and it was dropping tiny white petals all over the path. It was a combination of the ROTK coronation scene and some lovely wedding. The white petals stood out against the dark forest and landed in my hair.

I kept going, though, across a lovely brook and into a huge open field. I made a circuit of the field (waving at a low-flying biplane) and headed back. This time through the forest I kept trying to catch the tiny white petals. I only got one, but I touched it gently then blew it onto the breeze.

I made it back to the concrete just as the rain and a certain song began. I stood on one of the raised concrete pilings, looking out over the water with both hands raised and both eyes closed.

Do you wonder whats in store for me
The cure for me
The way
Oh look down and see the tears I’ve cried
The lives I’ve lived
The deaths I’ve died
Would you die them too
And all for me

(You say)
I will pour the water down upon a thirsty barren land
And streams will flow
From the dust of your bruised and broken soul
And you will grow like the grass
Upon the fertile plains of Asia by the streams
Of living water you will grow
Oh.. you will grow

It was the coolest Moment I’ve had in a while.

Some ballet by the water followed, then the walk home. I found some ferns that had the craziest leaves. Picture the ferns at home, only these ones fade to red or yellow at the tips of each individual leaf. They are literally the most beautiful things colour-wise that I’ve ever seen. I want a dress the colour of the green to red ones.

I found a baby fern, it’s leaves curled inward tight, that was the shape of a heart and a spiky ball of green growing on a strange tree. There were pink and white striped morning glories, yellow daisies and tiny purple flowers with deep red hearts. I picked tea roses that smelled of weddings and innocence. There were dark leaves against bright patches of sky and dark sky behind bright leaves. Textures of bark and leaf and mud were at every turn.




2 responses

4 11 2007
Father Smith


I’m sitting here drinking my coffee reading your post. Its still dark outside and I’m picturing you walking on that path with those falling white petals…sounds like the Lords sweet reminder that your his beautiful bride. What a lovely walk, dance…adventure! Thanks for putting it all into words.

I plan to fully dance independently until your return,

Love Dad

5 11 2007
Mother Smith

Once again dear daughter you paint pictures with your words.

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