Puppy Shadow and I hadn’t been to Griffy Lake — see it? Directly north of SR 45/46 —
— for over a month. Back then, it was still winter. With snow! I knew that once spring finally did take hold it would explode into green. And yes, indeed, it certainly has.
I’m always a bit leery of forest trails in summer, due to poison ivy (I didn’t see any), and both big and litttle ticks. But we decided to brave it. How could we not?
Here we start, up the trail, past sinewy fallen logs that remind me of snakes, symbols of renewal, resurrection . . . so often in my dreams through the years, I’ve encountered snakes . . .
Oops! There’s a snake!
In all my years walking trails here, I have never, ever, seen a live snake. This one is small, motionless. I stop to take a picture.
Oops! He (she?) sees me too, and starts pulling back into the crack, tongue flicking . . .
. . . until just his (her?) head is visible.
And even after the head slid back under, I can see him (her?) still staring at me, flicking . . .
Exciting for me, to see/feel this beautiful symbol of new life while walking into intense spring green. But: is it poisonous? I have no idea. I heard about two dogs that were bitten by a timber rattlesnake in nearby woods just yesterday. One of them has died.
I decide to keep Shadow on a leash. Stay on the trail!
We look out through trees at the top of the hill —
— walk along the winding path, for maybe a half mile, then start down, to the stream that leads into Griffy.
Beauty, beauty, beauty everywhere.
In a moment of inattention, I hear a splash. Is that Shadow?
Or is that a crocodile. (No. They are not present this far north. At least not yet!)
I can’t help but notice sinewy patterns everywhere in nature, reminding me of snakes . . . Even wood sometimes grows that way. As they say, “Nature abhors a straight line.”
Clearly, Nature loves tangles, too.
And so many plant species like to crowd together. Not for them this human way of placing plants — and houses — far apart . . .
Plants like each other! Can we humans learn to like each other, too?
But the theme of coiling, spiralling especially caught my eye yesterday. Shown so obviously in the way a stream will wander, if left alone.
On our way back to the Lake we ran into a large, gentle older man with a gentle, uncut brown male pit bull dog. To me, they not only belonged together, they reminded me of each other, even shared the same essence. I told him so, in just those words. He looked surprised — then thanked me, clearly moved. And said that the dog had just arrived one day, on his doorstep. Wish I had taken their picture.
As we started to walk away, he said to look for the blue heron in the lake, close to shore. So we did. Hard to see. But there!
Can you see him? Directly below the bush on the other side of the lake shore? Framed by a branch with two small dead branches? Okay, I’ll zoom in.
What a morning! I feel so blessed.