It never fails. Even after a relatively short immersion in wild nature, I am transformed. When I started up the dusty path from the trailhead, I felt constricted in a calcified shell of modern containment; irritable, burdened, and somewhat prickly
Amid the trees, the dry, sage-like aromas of the lower canyon trail transform. Here the air is not only cooler by several degrees but suddenly tinged with mossy notes and a scent of green-tea, catapulting me to other places and other wanderings.
It was the bees that called me back to myself. To my heart, really. One sleek Whippet on a lead in each hand, I was somewhat groggily stumbling barefoot down our current street this morning, taking ‘the boys’ out for their morning walk. My head pounded with a trigger point headache (a chronic problem lodged