This morning the sky is filled with deep grey clouds. While walking in the woods I noticed how the thick air tamps down the background noise of traffic, leaving more room for the sound of birdsong. I don't know why, but I wore my big, clunky winter boots. There isn't even any snow. I wasn't really awake yet and so the combination of the sky, my boots, and my muscles that refused to wake up made me feel firmly planted to the ground. It is a hazy morning stretching out into a hazy day. Today there will be no into-the-sky-shattering. Even Anu agrees.
My feet dragged along the path while she sniffed, nose to the ground, acting more like a hound dog than the energetic wolfie that she is. Lately her playfulness has been replaced by a serious bout of curiosity. I am content to slow my pace to hers, sometimes even stopping completely. She sniffs and digs while I scan the horizon. Often we look into the woods together. And I wonder why I do that--why I have such a deep need to understand and memorize my surroundings. For some reason, observing the shadow of fallen leaf helps me make sense of the world.
I've walked these woods so many times since moving here that they have begun to lose some of their mystery. Only lately have I started to make sense of the elaborate trail system that twines itself in knots and continues beyond the scope of my daily hikes. But the loss of mystery has been replaced by another way of seeing. I continue searching for secrets hidden behind, underneath, above. Clouds, dogs, leaves, a bird that I can hear, but not see...today I am not pushing back or breaking open. Today I only have energy to absorb.