Inspired by a birthday gift from a friend, a local hiking guide... Rachel, Barkley and myself took a light uphill march yesterday, a military frolic. It was mandated, by corporal me, that dogs must be allowed on the trail. No easy task, but we finally settled on a light trail about 30 minutes from home, Hood Mountain. We never made the summit as we decided too late in the day to begin the hike, and perhaps bringing a small puppy on a 3 hour hike, without water, is irresponsible. To mention nothing of the pregnant hiker in tow.
We discovered some beautiful vistas though, even without conquering the peak. Perhaps that battle will be for another day.
Within a few months I will be a naturalist, damning the many cities of my past, cursing their poisonous affect on nature, ambling freely naked among the many firs and pines, having sex with animals other than humans, making homes out of bark. Who knows, maybe the ghost of Daryl Hannah's nymph spirit will fall in love with me.
Ok, enough. I have to return to work today, where my dreams of nature will be squelched by the 35 minute drive inwards on Hwy 101, across the Petaluma river, down south choked along the urban funnel, where all inclinations towards nature have a slightly more esoteric than practical intent. It is a magical place in which all religious impulses are encapsulated in the simple concept of universal oneness, starting with Me... the early everlasting capital i of all, the center of i, Me, mine, NOW.