Playing Catch with flowers, Chatting With a Mole 

and Buzzing With Bees

That was my afternoon in the hills of Oakland yesterday, amongst the mighty redwoods. A quick down pour in the morning left the ground damp along the trail. It also heightened the smell of the big tress and the small buttercups and forget-me-not wildflowers blooming along the beaten single track. Dew, poised on leaves and fronds, reflected the afternoon sun causing ferns and underbrush below the canopy to glow with life. Leaves seemed to sparkle as they mirrored the sun’s rays that danced on their surfaces. Yesterday, I picked a new trail. A zig-zagging switch back that climbed to elevation and revealed more of the redwood forest to my thirsty eyes.  I had no idea where it would lead but my sense of direction reassured me I could find my way back to Cooper, and, if not, guaranteed me a beautiful search for the tiny breadcrumbs I left behind.

There is no doubt that the air below those trees contains more life giving oxygen than any other place on earth. The fresh air put pep in my step as I jogged up the hills, careful not to trip on any one of a bevy of exposed roots. At the end of the misty single track came a clearing that led me to the more exposed West Ridge fire trail, a trail I am familiar with that encircles the entire regional park. I moseyed up to a small crest along the rocks and happened to stop where there was a parting in the trees, just wide enough to expose an eastern facing view. I stepped forward to discover three small rocks placed in a row, so perfectly positioned it had to be done by a human hand. My eyes followed the direction of the strategically placed rocks in excited discovery.  I could see a barely beaten path just beyond the blackberry brambles growing over the inconspicuous trail. I jumped the brambles and found that someone had placed a small platform bench just six or so inches off of the ground. The bench was nestled into the bushes and trees so well you could not see it from the fire trail and the shape of the plant life surrounding it shielded it from the wind blowing up and over the ridge, almost like a cozy living blanket. I sat down. From that vantage point I could see to the north and to the east for miles and miles, the previous rain and wind clearing the sky, or more like refreshing it anew. I listened to the buzz of the honeybees zipping about collecting nectar for the hive, remnants of pollen stuck to their furry little legs.

“Good work”, I told them.  

I giggled. A barometer for my happiness has always been talking to inanimate objects or beings that have no ability to respond, and here I was discussing work with bees. I likened a bee with pollen stuck to her legs to an athlete with grass stains on her uniform, both wearing their hard work proudly.  Ravens swooped overhead and the sun on my shoulders felt warm and inviting. My heart rate slowed from my incline run along with my breath and overall self. I was in that moment. When I finally decided to rise out of my chrysalis and rejoin the trail, I thanked whatever human had placed that little bench in that marvelously hidden spot. I decided that the two of us have similar blood running through our veins. An adventurous, eager to explore while stopping to smell the roses blood, that wishes to build random benches in remote locations so those who have earned the summit can revel in the hidden treasures that lie there.

Along the return trail I knelt next to a bunch of forget-me-nots growing out of a fallen oak that lay rotting, feeding brilliantly orange fungi and newly sporing ferns. On the saturated, pale blue petals was a bulbous drop of dew. I reached out to touch it.  My finger was moving slowly toward the droplet and when my skin finally touched the water, it adhered perfectly intact and just as round, to the tip of my index finger.  I admired the rainbow spectrum of colors refracted through the water and lightly flicked the water from my digit. As in slow motion I watched the droplet leave my finger, move through the air and stick to another forget me not flower just beside the previous one.  I laughed out loud. We just played catch! That’s a first. This thought sparked a more animated, motion picture of a cartoon me heaving water droplets back and forth with smiling daisies, reminiscent of Alice down the rabbit hole.  Recognizing the ‘crazy’ in my imagination, I smiled, grateful for the play in my life and freedom to fly away on cheerful tangents and return, if necessary, J to a more serious reality.

I took a long stretch before getting back into the car, observing wild turkeys eat up the tall weeds in the park, their ugly (subjective) gobbles swaying with the shifty jerks of their pecking.  I took the speed bumps slowly and cringed as I drove over the parking spikes preventing people from entering the park past curfew times. I know the spikes will retreat into the ground but that never stops me from imagining the sound of tires puncturing and a long wait for AAA. I successfully exited and was making my right turn back to Oakland town when I saw what looked like a leaf blowing across the ground. I put my foot on the gas and took a second look. Was that? Brake. The object had gone beyond my hood, in front of my tires making it impossible to see. I came to a complete stop along the windy road and waited for this thing to enter back into my line of sight. A rodent? There is was. Eyes hidden behind its velvety looking fur, snout nose and big ol front paws turned out adapted for digging in the dirt.

“Mr. Mole, get home!”

I was not surprised at my exclamative conversation starter, just more so that I had given this gent a dapper subtitle such as Mr. and for that matter, assumed he was male. I was right though, HE did need to get home, for if I hadn’t recognized him he would have been flattened like the leaf I originally thought he was.  He lurched along the road until he reached the shoulder. I watched in wonder as his pint sized back legs, practically useless, waddled forward while his front paws, exposing proportionally massive claws did all the hard work to propel him forward. He found a pile of leaves and soft earth and burrowed himself underneath. Back into the safety of subterranean darkness I believe both he and I felt relief.  I wound back down Skyline boulevard with views of the setting sun on the Bay.

Happy meter turned to high.