Nurture your Nature

Letter to Gary on the first day of Fools

Notes taken on April 1, 2010 and written as a letter to a friend.

Dear Gare,

It’s the first day of Fools and I won’t admonish you; although, where you are, there’s sunshine, there’s warmth and every reason not to sit in your office or at class. No need to pout when the sun is shining. A memory of your smile reminds me of that. As for me… I’m strolling the park, climbing a mountain. It’s cold, windy, and threatening to snow.

I suppose it’s good to run up and down a mountain. I saunter. One slow step placed in front of the other. I always get to the end of my path; but, no further. Unlike the white butterfly that passes me, I have no wings. I move so slow that a fly lands on me. I don’t run like the youth in blue shorts doing repeats. The same distance up, the same distance down, up and down.



A man with a big dog, a lady with a pug chug up the path as I pause. I take a moment to peer at yellowbells and take a picture of fossilized ripples beneath a rock. I’d point these out to you if you were here.



One thing’s for sure: one doesn’t get lost here. Up-the-mountain, down-the mountain are the two main directions. Or: there’s the L; there’s the M; there’s Lolo Peak or the peak once named Old Squaw.

Today this slow walk must suffice. I’ve seen yellowbells and sun crossing the mountains, I’ve seen a blue-boy running. I descend as a big brown dog picks up a huge stick, loping past me on the way down.

I’d advise all my friends, dear friend:

Take a thousand pictures of what once was known and now forgot, or never-known and now will be remembered. Record the passing of pine, people, rocks. Sketch their presence; etching yours with words you share.



Each day note the majesty of sky-mountain clouds, life’s fragile fronds. Go every day, every season. Record it for the Ages. In a hundred years or two, perhaps even the mountain will notice you and remember your name.



As I remember yours. Forever your friend,

Kåre

© Kåre Enga 2010-04-01 [167.17]

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