After enduring a morning of cleaning yesterday, I abandoned my domestic duties when Matt arrived so I could whisk us to (hopefully) livelier terrain. Because I needed to GET OUT! and so, in a rather dazed sweaty state, into the car we tumbled.
We were on a quest. An adventure of the open road. (I turned into the park.) Today we’d purge our bosoms of wanderlust and trample through The Great Unknown. (I chose my favorite path.) We were stuck in the outback, roaming an enchanted forest of ancient legends and mystery trees, pushing through the Julian Alps. Wild berries and mushroom patches became our white stars of edelweiss.
A rustling caused me to motion for Matt to slow down. What wilderness was skulking beyond this isolated and unfrequented bend? A Slovenian boar? Were we about to experience a morbid encounter with a mouth full of bear teeth, preparing to rend away our fleshy parts? It could be a god damned mountain lion!
(Wait. Do mountain lions exist throughout Europe? Well, shit. Within these rugged corners, they do.)
I tensed with ears pricked and was greeted by a chubby squirrel rolling a moss-covered acorn across the footpath, the process interrupted as the fellow took a moment to scrutinize us before shepherding his generous haul into a private pocket of woodland. How beastly.
We pushed our way through Rattlesnake Creek; a goose splashed at the rowdiness of water bugs and dragonflies that were enjoying casual nibbles at his feet in the raw lazy afternoon. And we lingered to drink it all in, these luminous droplets of summer.
The moments withered away and finally, we — our bellies full of adventure, faces flushed from the attempt of penetrating the unknown — trekked back to the car. I swerved a few miles down the road to avoid the carcass of a turkey vulture splayed across the gritty highway. A turkey buzzard! We marveled, as we’d never seen such a sight.
And so we moseyed home in contentment.