Walking glorious paths of breath-taking, fall beauty while losing myself in interior dialogue is a common occurrence these days. "I don't know if there's a name for the color of those leaves. It's a sort of bright orange tinged with yellow and red." Sniiiiif...yes, inhale deeply to further ingest nature's best. "Ahh, it's so amazingly beautiful out here. The sky is so clear and the water is so calm. I can't get over how peacefxx..." BAM! BAM! BAM!
"Good one!," I think as I lower my right knee, unclasp my heart, slowly unscrunch my eyes, and relax my lips to cover bared teeth. I don't think I would fool any human or duck into believing I meant to strike that pose. Might as well continue walking and remind myself to just look straight ahead as cheeks flame and heart tries to find it's way back to a normal rhythm.
My husband and sons are hunters. I knew it was bound to happen. But that staccato of reports sounding off to my right caught me off guard and scared me as readily as a good glaucoma test. Sounds weird I know, but to endure the optical exam's blast of forced air, though some call it a tiny puff, prompts self imposed strong arm tactics. I have to force my forehead against the headrest while every inch of my face is crumpled and eyes are narrowed to the tiniest of slits. The expectation of what's coming is clearly worse than the actual outcome. I know this is a personal quirk that delights some family members and irritates others to no end. C'mon, doesn't everyone get freaked out by the suspense that builds while waiting on the *pop* caused by placing a spoon to the crease of a can of crescent rolls? I've finally given up on bullying myself to do it with arms outstretched, hands wrapped in oven mitts, and face turned away as far as possible. Now, I just pretend I need help with dinner and call my kids in to do the task. I'm astounded at their bravery!
For future walks, I suppose I should practice not flinching. I'll be sharing the Peninsula with 73 lucky duck hunters who won first chance to stake their blinds for the next couple months. I concede I could eliminate post traumatic stress by January if I chose to walk in a less unnerving location...but I'd just as soon face a plethora of eye-puffs before I'd give up Presque Isle in all it's seasonal glory!
Rinng Riiiing Riiiiing....Pillsbury called...they suggested I try Wintergreen Gorge.
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