.....paths

Yogis,
I have been spending considerable time trying to thin out the brush from a strip of land on the side of our property. The area is basically an extension of the woods behind us, but includes a steep drop off from the driveway, is lined with a half dozen fifty-year-old pine trees and is carpeted with several inches of pine needles, so it is no easy task.

Covered from head to toe to protect myself from poison ivy (which isn’t working very well) I am dragging out invasive vines with roots that travel several feet. Pulling ivy from small bushes and cutting back the honeysuckle. Dirty, sweaty work and at the end of the day it’s hard to tell I’ve even been in there.

On the other hand, I am uncovering hidden gifts. A small redbud tree. A couple hibiscus plants. And the remnants of a path.

When my neighbor Danny lived next door, I was over there often. I could have walked down the driveway, around the mailbox and down his driveway or cut straight through the brush. Being human, without thought, that was the choice. Over and over and over until a well-worn path was created. We both used this path as a form of connection. Over time we each put plants along it.

He has been gone for two years now so the path without the weight of our footsteps has been taken back by mother nature.

When I moved into this house, I created a path to go from my garden down the hill through the woods to the creek. For a few years I even laid mulch to tame the mud on rainy days. Because it is walked so often it now stays defined. Then I noticed the fox coming out of the woods from my path. Young deer would follow behind mom in a line walking up that slope. I started to wonder. Did I really create the path or had their years of travel led me to follow the same footsteps?

There is a large creek that runs through our town with a path that traces its edge. It has been hiked for decades. It offers bamboo forests, varying surfaces and steep ups and downs. It is one of my happy places. The county decided to put in a second path much higher up. A wider path with smoothed dirt and views of the creek. It’s lovely but they also decided to begin blocking the old path without talking to those who use and treasure it. Trees were cut and put across the path. Bamboo strewn over. New little trees planted right where everyone walks.

Those of us who walk and love the lower path were undeterred. We simply stepped over the fallen trees. Not an act of defiance but a following of the path. Some lifted and moved bamboo out of the way. The baby trees didn’t stand a chance. When I was there this week I noticed their empty cages lying in the brush. The path is once again defined. A path is chosen…..and can’t always be planned.

The worn down grass that circles my wheel garden shows me the path my life takes daily. My path at the river could be taken with eyes closed. The bluebell path heralds in spring. I travel them all.

Which path will I choose next?

So many paths with so little time,
SARAH