Loop Walk
Can confusion be knit into a landscape? Is there something about a particular topography, no matter how serene it appears, that can turn our heads? Would I be asking these questions if I didn't think there was? Yesterday I took a path I've hiked several times before. Once again, I paused at the juncture of three trails. Once again, I chose the "wrong" path.
Or was it? This trail led me into a cool green forest along the Snakeden Branch. I took deep breaths, heard a bird I didn't recognize. I knew approximately where I was. No need for panic. In fact, when the trail spit me out on a major thoroughfare, I realized there was circular potential.
The rails-to-trails marvel that is the W&OD was nearby, and the path I missed intersected it. If I could find that juncture, I could take a loop walk. The W&OD was sunny, and I wasn't sure how long I would be on it. Just when I thought I'd missed the crossroads, I saw the sign and escaped through a bright meadow into deep shade.
It was a different walk than the one I meant to take, but a good one just the same.
Or was it? This trail led me into a cool green forest along the Snakeden Branch. I took deep breaths, heard a bird I didn't recognize. I knew approximately where I was. No need for panic. In fact, when the trail spit me out on a major thoroughfare, I realized there was circular potential.
The rails-to-trails marvel that is the W&OD was nearby, and the path I missed intersected it. If I could find that juncture, I could take a loop walk. The W&OD was sunny, and I wasn't sure how long I would be on it. Just when I thought I'd missed the crossroads, I saw the sign and escaped through a bright meadow into deep shade.
It was a different walk than the one I meant to take, but a good one just the same.
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