Walking at Sunset

“Throwing Up Their Hands at Nightfall” by Sondra Sula

I normally walk in the morning, if pressed, the afternoon. But I rarely walk at sunset.

The light at the end of the day has a different quality to it, usually more yellow or pink, and slanted dramatically to create long shadows opposite the sun. Tree limbs, when backlit, can take on a wild, flailing look, as if they are throwing up their hands at nightfall, unable to stop its progression.

“Creek Snake” by Sondra Sula

A small creek runs behind our house that can trickle or tumble depending on the amount of rain or snow accumulation. At dusk it changes to a shimmering snake flecked with gold and purplish scales. Because leaves have dropped to the ground and only twiggy branches remain, I see farther up towards the snake’s mouth where it gobbles up the forest.

Empty nests of birds and squirrels are obvious now, silhouetted against coral clouds. I know the birds have gone, but I imagine squirrels curled inside smooth curves of brown oak leaves, made soft by repeated naps.

God has created a system in which the winding down process for the night is tinged with beauty. We are given a painterly canvas of sky to remember our small place in the world, a lullaby, sung by nature, to gently hum us to sleep. Look, listen and enjoy the night to come.

“Curling in Their Nests” by Sondra Sula

 

Human/Nature

“Beginning and End” by Sondra Sula

As much as I love the idea of pristine nature, untouched by humans, finding such a place in Aurora, Illinois, is unlikely. Almost all the trails I walk on were planned. They were designed and cleared by people, and then mulched, graveled or paved by yet more people. Deer trails are often impassable unless we use them on a regular basis, continually breaking off twigs and such at human eye level.

“Dropped Rose” by Sondra Sula

In this day and age, untraveled areas are unexplored for several reasons: too remote, too extreme, or too dangerous. Perhaps I needed to learn to further appreciate images that reflect the intersection between humans and nature. I took my walk with that in mind.

In less than five minutes I came to a tree trunk and decaying maple seedpod covered with a man-made orange spray. I may not have noticed this lovely composition had it not been so bright. I snapped the rose photo realizing it would not exist if a person hadn’t dropped or discarded that rose along the gravel path. And finally, asphalt and rock paths brought a feather, flower, and fruit to center stage (along with part of a stuffed animal.)

When I feel blessed and inspired on these Gratefulness Walks, I should remember to give thanks for all those souls who made it possible via their hard work (or even their carelessness.)

“Human Nature” by Sondra Sula