I guess it must be the flag of my disposition

 

I was angry when I left the house for my walk this afternoon. I’d had an argument with my son who yes, is still staying with us. It’s a long story and one I’ll not go into here. Suffice it to say that he exasperates me. Completely.

And so I headed out to clear my head, hoping to expel some of the frustration. I took the hiking poles and headed on the down trail, the one by the barn that heads down the side of the hill. I’d gone only about 50 yards when I came upon a beautiful turtle right in the center of the trail. He had a rust-orange colored head and red-rimmed eyes. I stood there, pondering whether or not I should go back up for the camera, then finally decided not to.

I knew it would piss me off even more if I came back with the camera and that turtle was gone.

So I kept going. And the walking began to help. Especially when I saw the view above.

I changed my mind about the camera when I saw the way that the sun was hitting the trees and I ended up going back to the house to get it.

When I got to the spot where the turtle had been, the only thing left was his trail, which I tracked to the edge of the woods and deep brush. Oh, well.

I brought the macro lens just in case.

I love fuzzy caterpillars.

Here’s what it looked like today as I stood at the lower edge of the down trail.

I started calming down and was glad I’d gone back for the camera and the extra lens. I used the macro to get the shots above and below (as well as the caterpillar).

All is well now. I mean, my son is still the same but I’ve just changed how I’ve decided to feel about it.  You can’t change things that are beyond your control.

And I’m proud to say that I did this without the aid of wine. It’s only Thursday for cripes sake.

My mother used to say that all the time. “For cripes sake, Clarke, would you stop recording everything I say?!”

My father’s name was Clarke. I used to think he was Superman. When we were young, he told us adventure stories all the time – stories in which he was the hero.  They were wonderful and until I was in about 2nd grade, I really believed that my mother had been captured by an Indian tribe and rescued by a family friend – my father. He’d always been in love with her, he told us, and after he rescued her, they got married.

More on that later. And about the tape recording.

Luv,