Locomotoring

Last weekend we went out to Edgewood, our local park. We walk here often and I write about these walks often (link, link, link, link). This time too, the small white daisy like flowers, hayfield tarweed, that smell of lilac/lavender are in bloom. The coastal and valley oak trees looked majestic. This time around, they are laden with acorn. The serpentine rocks with their greenish tint were easily recognizable. I found myself checking the spots where the oyster mushrooms will grow soon. When we reached the top of the Edgewood hill, I recalled the double rainbow from earlier this year. Sun was shining bright this time and the whites of the distant salt beds dazzled us.

We both commented how we adored this landscape with oak, bay and madrone trees lining our hiking path and its earthy fragrant understory.

We visit new places to experience the newness. These experiences can be profound. I look back at my recent experiences of these other landscapes. I experienced awe when I walked the bear trail in Alaska. I experienced loneliness when I walked the featureless trails in Antarctica. I experienced joy when I stood in the glacial waters of Chilkat river holding a salmon in my arms. I experienced calm in Panamint Valley looking up at the night sky. I experienced sadness on the heather covered crags of Quirang.

Monet drew his water lilies over and over again, across summer, winter and rain, at dawn and at dusk. Edgewood is my water lily pond. It isn’t a single profound experience. It is a sense of belonging, an assimilation.