It is with good intentions that I take a walk with Mother Nature, she seems to set my pace, slowing me down, until soon, I am breathing deeply, enjoying the moments more than I thought possible. When I am busy like I am today, I will go running, because it takes less time. Time is something I just don't have enough of.
By the way, if anyone knows where I can buy some time, I will be forever in your debt. I cannot be the only one, for sure. How do you manage all of your day between work, play, family, and Hiving? Of course, balance is key, but, how do you achieve it?
Getting back to where I mention running when I don't have time to walk, I was half kidding. I like to run, but, lately, I think about saving my knees for when I get old. I know too many people that are not old having trouble with their knees. Why chance it? So, I run less and walk more. This brings me to the fact that walking has slowed me down, lowered my resting heart rate, more observant of my surroundings, and noticed the little things. Oh, yes! It is always the small things in life, yes?
This same week, which pretty much died over the winter is still standing from a month ago. I have been watching it to see if it goes the way of the winter. I note it is still standing straight and tall, not being tromped on, probably because it resides on the muddy banks of a spring-fed stream, never sure of the flow, most steer clear of it.
This is called a ZigZag Fence, sometimes called a Battlefield Fence. You will find these in the wooded part on many Civil War battlefields. This one is very similar to the split rail fences, which 
Promise me
You won't die
Having never run naked
Under the stars
In the long grass
Of a summers night
~ Atticus
Don't you love the way Mother Nature provides for her animals? Left on their own, they can forage and make a meal for themselves if given the opportunity. As humans, we tend to spoil them and make them useless by taking too good care of them. Where do we draw the line? Is there a way to tell if we are helping them be helpless?
All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.
I want to thank 
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Robert Frost
