full circle in the hundred acre wood

Oh, man. It’s the first of October. Well, actually the second. And I said, in print, that at the beginning of each month I would walk around Longleaf, take pictures, and write a post about the seasonal changes.

But it’s hot. It’s humid. I still have stitches in my mouth, a paper cut on my finger, and a hangnail. I’m tired. I didn’t go out this morning because we had a convoy of dump trucks and earth-moving equipment in front of the house building a driveway. And now it’s late afternoon. I would rather stay here in my cool, dark cave.

So many lame excuses not to embrace life.

Bottle of water and camera in hand, I trudge down the sandy road. At first, everything looks the same as it always does. . . which is to say that it never is the same from one moment to the next.

What is it about me that can endure and be present with my own or another person’s deepest suffering, but wants to turn away from mundane ugliness, pettiness, the impolite or unpleasant? Saw palmettos, squat and sharp, growing in this sand where hardly anything else will grow. Volunteer slash pines, fragile looking green pick-up sticks, stabbing their way up through the ubiquitous iron rock.

My critical beholding eye softens, the beauty of this oft-times harsh environment beguiles and invites me, yet again. We are cousins, kith and kin.

Walk with me, if you will. (Thanks to Dave at Via Negativa and Daisy Winifred at Animated Stardust, I am trying to get the pixels adjusted for either dial up or high speed. Don’t know if I’ve got it right yet, and would sincerely appreciate feedback and advice.)

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