Walking. With air kisses in the palm of the hand.

3:30 a.m. 809 consecutive (almost) days on my daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. 809 days, like in a row.

Here we go. (Again)

I walk.

Even for me, today’s early. Too early.  The normal shot-clock is exactly 1 hour prior to scheduled sunrise.  And we jumped the gun.  Mistake was checking Dark Sky App before bed.  Clear skies = clear shot at a crescent moon. So, there we were, 3:45 a.m., my date with camera and Luna.

I take a few shots and walk.

Rebecca Solnit in her book Wanderlust: A History of Walking talks about walking as the intentional act closest to the unwilled rhythms of the body, to breathing and the beating of the hearther thoughts were in themselves a form of locomotion. I thought about all this for a moment.  Well, I’m certainly breathing, and the heart is beating, but that’s about it. My a** is dragging. Rhythm? Locomotion? Nothing happening here.

I walk.

In the past month, there have been 3 incidences. A serendipitous meeting of man and a white-tailed deer popping out from behind a tree. Jesus, Bambi, how about a little heads up? I near crapped myself.

The second event earlier this week, I’m looking out for him, and, he’s waiting for me. He takes a few steps onto the shoreline, and then spins, once and then twice in the soft sand, and turns to stare at me.  See? Be happy! I watch this in disbelief. Did that really happen? Lori, what’s the damn word. App…? Appart..? Aprit…?  He prances down the shoreline, legs on giant steel springs, and disappears. [Read more…]

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