I am taking you with me on an adventure. Okay maybe a micro-adventure, nevertheless if you need a mental break from thinking about work–come along.
As pebbles crunch underneath my trailrunners I notice: today smells like adventure, here in Scotland! Adventures smell of summer and soil, petrichor, deep dark woods; they smell of minerals in mountains, clear springs and hues of saltwater wafting in with the gentle breeze. The air is liquid today, humidity makes every breath labour. Even the breeze cannot create a current, just small ripples in the thick air. Everything is heavy, the wet soil, wildflowers bending under the load of their blooms, elderflowers drooping as moisture clings relentlessly to everything. Thousands of flowers, herbs, grasses elbow for a space along the riverbank. A gang of lesser spotted orchids managed to secure a half shaded place, they watch over it jealously, whilst brambles encroach on their territory. The Campsie Hills rest in the mist like a sleeping dragon, although their name states these are fairy hills, the fairies came later when the dragons were already asleep.
Grasses at shoulder height offer some respite–a breather before the relentless glow of heat, rising from the ground, hits me once more. My steps are slower today, despite the Nordic Walking polls. A lazy adventure. Right now. I wish I could just jump in the car and go. Anywhere. Well okay. Up North. Always up North. North-West. Where the wind takes hold, and eases breathing. Where breakers thunder ashore before the sea is still like a mirror and porpoise jump in front of my kayak. Today though the adventure is lazy. Rich with colours, and scents, wild life dotting about on urgent business. A yellow hammer tries to convince me he is hurt to lure me away from his nest. I wonder if it’s in the hazel bush?
Ancient trees mark the borders between pastures and fields. Their thick crowns offer no protection from the moisture laden air. There is no escaping the hot humidity. And so it ends soon my micro-adventure. Hidden amongst the wild blooms. Swifts on their hunt shoot like fighter jets across the field. I almost had an air traffic accident. Feeling the drift of their wings as they pass close to my face. We should all move with such confidence. Always knowing where we are. How we are within ourselves, to be able to move at breakneck speed without repercussion or move slowly, deliberately, with the purpose of being.