Rex stopped and savored his environment. The grove in Henry Coe State Park smelled of evergreen sap and centuries of nature’s teardrops glancing off ferns, moss, Douglas fir needles, and dead redwoods. From across the meadow, a burbling brook trickled over rough and worn rocks and scattered pinecones, sounding like low pitched, murmuring windchimes. Then, from a distance, a hoot owl sounded an alarm causing rabbits and deer to take flight.
Overcome by wilderness awareness, sights, sounds, smells seemed to merge into a sensory chorus. Like a harpsichord picking strings, each became one with the moment and strident thoughts and emotions appeared to vanish like vapor into dense fog. Ultimately, Rex felt cloaked in nature’s overcoat of Zen. In such moments, today became tomorrow, and tomorrow became yesteryear. Then Linda came to Rex in an ephemeral mist, a reminder that nobody but Linda ever evolved so thoroughly from a dark, nocturnal shroud to life.
A gust of wind blew Linda’s long, thick hair from behind and billowed around her dress like a sail. “Stay with me awhile longer Linda,” Rex pleaded as he observed her chameleon-like body taking on characteristics of the elements.
Rex watched through the trees as rain clouds gathered above, and the quaint forest smells became mixed with the smell of rotting timbers, dried grass, and musty flowers. Linda’s apparition had long since melted into the shady gloom. Once it began to pour, Rex turned to go back home, but the warm rain felt like nature weeping on his body and sounded like a gentle voice backed by an angle choir—crying.
As the nebulous form dissipated into nightshade, Rex stopped speaking, and for the first time in years, he knew that he ‘d always be alone…. The shadow through the mist might have been anybody; his wife, Linda, had died the very moment she gave premature birth to their son.
Overcome by wilderness awareness, sights, sounds, smells seemed to merge into a sensory chorus. Like a harpsichord picking strings, each became one with the moment and strident thoughts and emotions appeared to vanish like vapor into dense fog. Ultimately, Rex felt cloaked in nature’s overcoat of Zen. In such moments, today became tomorrow, and tomorrow became yesteryear. Then Linda came to Rex in an ephemeral mist, a reminder that nobody but Linda ever evolved so thoroughly from a dark, nocturnal shroud to life.
A gust of wind blew Linda’s long, thick hair from behind and billowed around her dress like a sail. “Stay with me awhile longer Linda,” Rex pleaded as he observed her chameleon-like body taking on characteristics of the elements.
Rex watched through the trees as rain clouds gathered above, and the quaint forest smells became mixed with the smell of rotting timbers, dried grass, and musty flowers. Linda’s apparition had long since melted into the shady gloom. Once it began to pour, Rex turned to go back home, but the warm rain felt like nature weeping on his body and sounded like a gentle voice backed by an angle choir—crying.
As the nebulous form dissipated into nightshade, Rex stopped speaking, and for the first time in years, he knew that he ‘d always be alone…. The shadow through the mist might have been anybody; his wife, Linda, had died the very moment she gave premature birth to their son.
