The path where Jon and I walk with the dogs is always changing. From day to day, from morning to afternoon and I’m sure from moment to moment, although I wouldn’t see such small changes. So sometimes, to make myself more present and observant, I focus on the wild flowers. On the way in I notice all the different flowers growing that day. On the way back I pick one of each. I always wind up with a bigger bouquet than I expected. If I see only one of a certain type of flower growing I leave it to grow. I’m sure there are always one or two flowers that I miss.
Last walk , after lots of rain, there were some white, waxy, mushroom-like flowers. They looked like the ghosts of miniature daffodils, only very real, very substantial. I decided to leave them where they were. (I’m reading Alice Hoffman’s “Practical Magic” a witchy story with lots of poisonous herbs and spells.) Sometimes the mushrooms pop up so quickly they still have the soil and leaves they came up through on top of them. It’s like looking at a sunflower that is so big it seems like you can see it growing.
I used to run through my walks, mostly trying to calm my nervous energy. I’ve found that only gets me anxious and tired. The only thing that clams me down is to calm down. Walking slowly and purposely, searching for flowers, keeps me present and stills my mind and my body.