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Arroyo
Seco Morning
It’s a
beautiful May morning, with a temperature of a fresh 65 degrees
at 8:30 AM. Later in the day, the temperatures will rise to the
low 90's, but the river will remain refreshingly cool.
I sit, with Jim’s dogs, on the beach along the Arroyo Seco. The
dogs are terrific companions. Senior Schnauzer, Oscar, takes
short excursions to investigate daring grey squirrels and
returns, satisfied, for the moment, until the next squirrel
scampers out to tempt him.
Border Collie, Cajun, leaves my side only to retrieve the sticks
I through into the river.
He happily returns them to me, pressing his wet body, next to
mine. Even though I squirm away a couple of inches to avoid his
damp fur, it’s of no use. He insist on sharing my beach towel.
I wonder how the locals earn a living down here, an hour away
from the nearest town, isolated by the curving canyon roads. At
the “ripe old age” of 40, I feel like retiring, right now, in
mid life. Just allow me a year to sit outdoors, quietly, in
nature, to read and write, perhaps learning to weave a basket or
two. I was too young for the “hippie thing” back in the 60s and
70s.
Perhaps it’s my time to be a hippie now.
I came down here today to take a break from reality. The
so-called reality of city traffic and asphalt pavement, of back
stabbers and business, of envelopes with little windows,
that come in the mail bearing “past due” notices.
Most of all, I am taking a break from isolation. You can’t
really be isolated when you are out in nature, with birds, and
pets, and wildlife to keep you company. But you sure can be
lonely when you are living in the middle of the city with humans
all around you. Everyone’s too busy to say “hello” or pick up
the telephone to lend a bit of encouragement.
Out here, in nature, the birds welcome you with a song, the sun
shines on you,
and everything shares its beauty without taking, or asking,
anything from you in return.
An excerpt from Where the Red Tailed Hawk Flies
Copyright 1997 by Gabriella Graham/Red Tailed Hawk Publishing |
