I can’t remember the last time that we hiked three days in a row

But it was finally Spring after a long dragged-out cold spell in May
And that seemed unusual
Although my Facebook memories tell me it had been this cold this long for the past few years
But the pandemic made time run differently and everything was out of sorts then

So a warm long weekend when impending rain held off until more opportune hours, beckoned us to come out each morning
And it feels like humans are just meant to walk outside, in reflection and silence

It was our same well-known path, that front trail is our private slice of Heaven Must be a Kentucky Kind of Place. Being creatures of habit, it was the same time of day, Hell even wearing the same clothes – and yet we had three completely different hikes

Friday was post-concert, pre-rain, the weekend is full of promise
The dirt was bone-dry and dusty, the greenery finally starting to open but waiting for the rain which was expected but not actually coming
There was a doe, watching us warily
And birders, binoculars scanning the trees, and checking the headstones in the homestead cemetery

Saturday started sluggish, hungover
There was just enough rain overnight to barely dampen the dirt – and explode the world in color
Wild strawberries, butterflies and bluebells – red, white and blue – daytime fireworks
There were turkeys in the farm field behind the back fence, four big toms
They answered when I called, put-put-put
It smelled green and floral, vibrant and alive, and made us feel the same way

Sunday after the thunderstorms was sunny, soggy and strangely surreal
All the blackberry canes had flowered overnight
But yesterday’s remaining flowers were flattened and wilted, a Salvador Dalí painting
Rain had washed out the previous day’s scent, replacing it with the sickening sweetness of rotting honeysuckle
There were strange birds, dark blue with chocolate brown, airplane-shaped wings, zooming overhead, chattering and mocking us
And a tiny ssssnake, curled in a ball by the side of the trail, just basking and sssstaring at us

The trail bloomed and wilted like the weekend itself