Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond (birdhousefrog) wrote,
Oz Whiston writing as Oz Drummond

It's Here, Y'all!

The cold weather arrived, on schedule, Friday night. Very cool ring around the moon last night. Very cool cirrus yesterday, like paintbrushed pictures in the sky. Weatherdude is unhappy with the forecast for Friday, which promised rain. It drizzled for a short time. We did get gusts to 45mph.

I blogged the power outage, but not my 5 mile walk. Too much going on, including writing a new story, about 1500 words now, and I plan another 500 today. I'm feeling my way along through this idea, revising and refining. I'll post some of it. My goal is to finish it, even if it's only something I write for me.

I decided I wanted to walk, needed to walk. Fridays seem to go that way. I had missed 2 days of fog and I wasn't going to miss the final morning of warm weather. No wet rat, alas. I kept going, counting half-mile posts. I wanted to know if I could do 5 miles. I was still feeling good at 2 miles, knew I was pushing for 2.5, but couldn't resist truly walking between 2 exits on Rt 7. It's a great section of the W&OD because it moves away from the road and it's quiet. On the entire walk, I saw 2 bicyclists, no one else. For 2 miles at a stretch, I was alone.

It was so warm that I took off my long-sleeved shirt for the 2.5 miles back and tied it around my waist. I walked in a tank top on the 1st of December. Good thing I was alone, as this is not a pretty sight.

So as the wind stiffened it caressed my bare skin. In the trees, it was the sound of waves coming in to the shore. Very few extraneous sounds penetrated to the trail. Me and the wind in the trees. The occasional bird or squirrel. It was a zen moment. I was in the now, concentrating on form, using my muscles, standing erect, lifting my arms to stretch tall. And playing with this idea in my head that had started in the workgroup the night before. Not consciously playing with it. My conscious was focused on the air around me, on how I was walking. But somewhere underneath in the lizard brain, the work continued. E ticket and C ticket rides. Choices.

By the final half mile, my right thigh was taking up a lot of my conscious thought. As I walked across the road to the final marker and back, the final 2/10ths, my form was shot and I was dragging, a very tired puppy. It was pretty difficult to lift that right leg into the car. I have no idea why that muscle complains so much, but it does. The heck with it, I say. The walk is too good to give up.

And after shopping, after eating, after power being out, after the babysitter arrived, I went down to my cabin and wrote a thousand words. Had the door open because it was still warm. By yesterday afternoon, I had to light both heaters to warm up the dead cold of the cabin. Pretty weather, but cold.

And only on the trail am I alone. Even in my cabin, I have the dog and two of the cats as company.

Frog Out
Tags: farm, process

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