To Walk a Narrow Lane

Oh, to walk a narrow lane between the drooping spruce and the elms and the maple trees. Oh, to breathe the crisp alpine air while gazing out across the river, looking at the tree-clad slopes charging up from the valley where a steeple rises over the crests of the trees, marveling at the rocky crags in the distance.

I do not know what I would do if we had a TV in this house. The news from it makes me so glum that I sit here sullen even though the nearest one is across the street. When we come home from a run, tired and hungry and weak, the news of the world and the words of the day are so hard to take. It all seems about the fall in on itself.

But we do not have a TV, and I do not have to listen to those words or watch those talking heads. So I sit here and look at the pictures my brother has sent us and think, Oh, to walk a narrow lane in the cool air beneath a blue sky on a sunny day in the mountains.

10:06:42 PM   permalink: []   feedback:   comments: []