I’ve been spending a lot of my weekends visiting family. We do all those things my mother tried to get us to do as children but hated: family picnics, hikes, leisurely togetherness. It took me many, many years to appreciate these things. Now I do.
The foothills have put on a spectacular show of autumn. This trail is one of my favorites. It curves, winds, climbs, then descends into the darkest woods that make me expectant of a roguish Aragorn on horseback–a girl can dream.
I assumed my mother hauled the family out here, so close to their home, often, but she doesn’t. I was shocked. Maybe, it’s my turn to round the troops for family outings. No one would have guessed me for this job. Irony can be so illuminating.
I managed to snap a few photos. The family ladies didn’t want to be blogged. So private we tend to be, each in our different ways. Mom shot Zephyr and I next to the foot bridge. Look at all the leaves. Can you smell them?
Up river from the bridge, the stream trickles down from a place only animals can go. No foot falls allowed. Some places should remain secret, private, mythical. 🙂
It was a nice day, d.