A Day for Looking Closely

I want a cool morning, a small notebook and time to look at things other people walk past. That is the short version of my perfect day. It starts at home in Boone with coffee and Biscuit nearby, before I decide which chores can wait.

I see to the hens before I think about my pack. Marie, Rachel, Rosalind and Wangari have their place in the morning.

I make the coffee in Wade’s old percolator. The smell of the coffee fills the kitchen. On some mornings the familiar object of the percolator carries more weight than I expect. In the day I am imagining, I can enjoy it without asking it to give me back another time. I drink the coffee hot and let the morning be this one.

My plan for the day is a long walk near home, up toward a view with room for slow going. This will not be a section of the Appalachian Trail. Maine is still waiting for me. This perfect day will be to give the nearby ground the attention I usually promise it.

I leave a written plan with Lacey. She is my daughter, a veterinarian in Asheville, and she knows where I intend to be. I check the weather for the day and then decide what will make for a good walk. I want a walk I can adjust, not a promise that forces me to keep going.

The rain jacket goes in the pack. This is something that I carry with me every day of the year. I carry water, lunch, my hand lens, a small notebook and Wade’s red bandana. The bag looks and feels normal on my shoulders.

I imagine pale morning light on the ground and a little dampness left from the night. My boots make a soft sound as I start to walk. I go slowly enough to notice things. There is no class behind me, ready to learn, but the teacher in me is awake.

I taught for 32 years. Asking what something is and how we know became a habit that followed me home. A walk gives that habit a good place to go.

First stop. I stay on the tread and use the hand lens to look closely at the tiny shapes of something small beside the path. I take my time. I am not collecting a specimen or testing how much I remember from teaching.

I make a note in the notebook of things such as color or form that I can check later. I prefer that to naming something I have not checked. Retirement has not removed my appetite for knowing. It has given me more freedom to admit I do not know yet.

Then I put the lens away and walk. I want space between the stops too. There is pleasure in moving steadily, letting the shoulders settle under a pack and hearing my own steps. The morning does not have to be full of discoveries to hold my interest. Some of it can simply be walking.

I grew up near Banner Elk on my grandparents’ farm. These mountains are home. They are home to me, and I can easily ignore them as I am on my way to some higher and more spectacular view. But on this perfect day, I will be paying close attention to things near at hand.

At a small rise, I pause and take a drink. I look up at the sky again, instead of relying on the last glance before I set off. The rain jacket stays in the pack for now. It hasn’t been wasted by being carried around, I don’t think. Useful precautions need not wait for an emergency.

Farther along, I find a place to stop without getting in the way. I sit and let the quiet arrive. There is a slight breeze and I feel it against my face. I get out my lunch before I get too hungry, as I don’t want to be eating in a hurry to get back to walking. My lunch is simple and very good.

I think of Wade as I sit there in the cool morning air. We walked Appalachian Trail sections together over 16 summers, and I am still finishing what remains. Today, I can remember him, and be enjoying my meal in the cool morning air above Boone.

There is also room in this slow day for remembering Wade. After he died, walking and writing helped me feel connected to people again. I do not want a pleasant day to become an argument that grief has ended. And I don’t want my grief to make me feel as though I am being disloyal to him in some way by enjoying myself.

I can make another brief note. The handwriting is not impressive. The page does not need to be. I can write down what caught my attention and that will help me remember it. This is so much better than writing something to prove that I am able to write something that is of value.

I continue on down the trail towards the viewpoint I had selected for the day. I allow my pace to fall into a natural walking rhythm for the terrain. I allow myself plenty of time to stop and read signs along the way. I enjoy reading signs along the trail. They were put there by someone for a purpose and I enjoy giving them the time and attention they deserve.

When I reach the point where I had intended to turn around, I stand for a moment and look around. I stand, look and enjoy arriving. I do not set a farther goal. I can take my time to look around and then start the walk back with plenty of energy left.

Back to the small places of the morning’s walk. Each one of them, the hand lens, the drink, the lunch, the sign, are part of the morning’s walk and give it more form than the miles alone.

I’m curious about people too. This can get ahead of my manners sometimes. Alone on this walk, I can leave the questions in my own head rather than inventing an answer about a stranger. It’s useful practice for dealing with others who have sparked my interest.

I am tired by the time I reach near home, and am able to enjoy the last part of my walk. I am able to look after things the rest of the evening. The hens and Biscuit are still around, and I am too.

I take off the pack and deal with what needs drying or washing. I put the notebook in a sensible place.

I sit with something to drink and read over my notes. There may be a question to check later. I can enjoy the difference between a day full of interest and a day full of assignments. This is one of the things that I am enjoying most about retirement.

I am looking forward to Lacey’s evening call. No need to make up conversation. I will tell her where I went for the day and that I am back home. The rest of the call can be the typical conversation of a mother and daughter.

Writing for TrailCircuit would allow me to explain how I look at things and use that in words that a reader could use. I want to be honest about what I still need to check. I think that there would be great value in a column such as this for people who have questions but don’t know where to look for an answer.

Before bed, I check that the rain jacket is ready again. My notes from the day are still on the table. I have been out for the day, paid attention to things and come home with something to think about. It was a good day and I am warm, fed and ready for tomorrow. This is a day that I would be thankful for.