Last week I went to read for class in my spot in Frick Park. I had some water and a notebook, a bunch of pens. I was prepared to lay there for a couple of hours reading, people watching and just doing some general notetaking, in the hopes of getting back in touch with a few parts of myself. I've been feeling more connected and generally aware of the natural world as a result of this class. I notice weeds more after having read Nancy Gift's A Weed By Any Other Name. I listen to the birds outside my window in my living room more often. I have my blinds open while I sit at home. I'm not sure why I use so many lights inside during the day. I even played Frisbee with my brother and sister in law last week at my parents house. It's been a good progression toward a more crunchy version of myself. I like it.
But my plans for the park last week were not what I had predicted. The rock, first of all, was really uncomfortable. I couldn't find a good place to just curl up and read my book. I also didn't realize that part of a trail comes out right at this rock. So a couple of times people walked by me and once a group of dogs ran past. I like dogs well enough, but I am allergic. So I'm not really comfortable around them since I've had to keep them at a distance for fear of devolving into a big sneezing mess. Then there were the spiders. I found two or three crawling on my body and I couldn't shake them. I tried brushing them off but I was also trying to not fall off the giant rock I was sitting on and also not scream like a girl in the woods because of a bug. How lame is that? To be fair, they were kind of cool looking spiders. One was black and shiny and kind of small, but fat looking. With pinchers. The other was a lighter color, perhaps a yellowish green. Also small and fat. I wish I wasn't so irrationally afraid of spiders and other insects. I've overcome other fears so I wonder if I could overcome this one. It really does hamper my experiences with the outdoors.
So I left, but on my way out I sat for a few moments on a nice bench to check out this tree that had fallen over. I love looking at tree roots. It's like their branches are curled fingers beckoning me over to them. I could curl up inside a million gnarled arms. There is something frightening about them too, the way the root hairs hang down. How the thick roots look like the arthritic hands of an old woman. The rotting. The death. But I still find them fascinating. But my fascination was interrupted by a large flying bug of some sort that dive bombed right into my neck. Later I realized I had put on some vanilla scented lotion the night before and had yet to shower the next day before my park adventures. I did manage to take some pictures while I was there. I'm hoping this week is less insect-filled. I'll be sure to avoid smelling so delicious.