Meandering Hike by Susan L.

  The Gibsons are a local family who started off with a couple of trucks. After Honda moved into town, they quickly expanded and are now a huge operation. It seems I can't drive anywhere without seeing one of their rigs. They are a generous family, not only supporting local arts but they also offer this piece of land as a haven for hikers. It's a five minute drive from my place.
  The sandy path meanders through second growth forests and a couple of meadows. Like everywhere else, the ground and trees are panting for moisture. The first part of the trail is a slow incline from the parking area that leads to a rather stiff climb to the top of the hill. I had to rest...uh, I couldn't resist picture taking!
  The odd time a chipmunk rustled in the brush. A red squirrel swore at this intrepid intruder. The birds were quiet. The cicadas made enough noise for everybody. I did spot a toad that was sunning itself on the path. Or should I say, it spotted me. It was only because it moved that I saw it.
  It was hot in the sun but not unbearably so. Still, when the path meandered through the woods, the shade was a delight.
  As I walked, I found myself composing this post. What I would share, how it would be worded. It felt as though my readers were walking with me. Which was nice. There was nobody else in the area. There'd been a group just leaving when I pulled up. Some days it can be rather busy.
  There was a constant hum of trucks and cars that pervaded the area except when I climbed down into a steep sided ravine. The sound of silence was loud. There are so few areas where human activity doesn't make itself known. Even way up north at Grundy, there were trains rumbling and whistling not too far away.

  When I finally reached the top of the long climb, the path follows cultivated fields and opens up to a spectacular view of the countryside. It made me realize how much of the area is blanketed with forest. I suppose, like the Gibson Hills, it's simply too hilly to cultivate. The patchwork of forest, newly harvested wheat fields, farmsteads and rolling hills is breathtaking. I'd put in an order for photogenic clouds.
  One thing about climbing hills, you have to climb back down. The grade was steep at first then wove it's way around lumps and bumps laid down in the last ice age. Boulders and chunks of granite peeped out of the undergrowth, also souvenirs of the last deep freeze. Folks around here call them "leaviters", short for "leave it there because it's simply too darn big to move!" There's a scientific name for them but it eludes me right now.
  Some of the trees in this area of the trail are much older. These towering sugar maples had to have been seedlings long before I was born. I'll be sure to come back in the fall when they are dressed in crimson glory.
  Along with the well marked human trails, there were signs of other wildlife using the area. Flattened grass pathways leading off to the side showed where deer had passed frequently. The grim find of a few bits of raccoon fur was evidence of coyotes. That gave me some pause but I know they are afraid of people. At least there haven't been any bear sightings...recently.
  The trail ends where it began. Crisscrossing the meadow are paths not seen from a lower vantage point. It made me think of choices made and choices yet unmade. That one path will lead, well, somewhere and another somewhere else. Where that final destination will be, remains to be seen.
  "But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels." Heb 12:22