Almost every morning for years now I've walked the same mile of rocky, caliche road, up to the bend and back. Some mornings I veer off into the woods or along the creek bed.
The seasons trade places quietly; changes are subtle when you're watching every day.
This morning I felt the touch of autumn on my bare arms, brushing past in the breeze. I noticed bunches of tiny yellow flowers popping up along the sides of the road… autumn yellow with a touch of gold as opposed to Easter egg or summer sun yellow. Maybe the difference is in my imagination, fed by cooler temperatures and golden autumn light, but for me it's a hint of more changes on the way.
Along this road I've prayed. I've skipped. I've held hands with my sweetie. I've laughed at dogs and a guinea fowl. Many mornings I've cried… only God, the dogs, the birds and trees witnessing my tears.
My thoughts often wander, ramble, drift away from me on their own adventures. Along this road I can open up my heart, dig around and pull out any troubled thoughts weighing me down. I can imagine tying them onto the tail of a kite, one after another, then letting the string slip from my grasp.
I can imagine watching the breeze catch it and pull it high, high… watching it fly away, my troubled thoughts tumbling along behind, gradually disappearing into the morning clouds…
Long Hollow 
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