Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Hills

I'm no runner (though I've tried.) I'm a walker, and ambler. Like Thoreau! is what I tell myself.

On my ambles across the fields I encounter mostly flatness and feldspar. When I encounter a terrain that is not flat, my heart races. I could be in Colorado. Look at this thing. A hill. It's like I'm in the Rockies. A grade! An obstacle! Something to surmount! Yes! Then, I begin to pant.



Chapel Hill, by my house, in the Western Shore Upland Region/Piedmont Plateau Province, is an intrusion of some kind. Volcanic. Weirdness, among the sedimentary flatness. I like to mow my way up it, pummeling the dandelions' heads off. Pow. Pow-pow and the seeds disperse into the air.

2 comments:

  1. The best friend is an avid hiker. One time, I joined her on an "easy" hike that required us to scale a mountain and then descend down the choppy terrain. It helps being an urban walker, and yet we all have our limits. Glad to see we share an affinity for walking and flat surfaces.

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  2. Just a note to say that I really enjoy reading your work (here and elsewhere). I save it for when I need a moment of refreshment in my long days in front of the computer screen.

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