Forest Bathing with Flies
This weekend I promised myself (even though I was ill) that I would return to the park to see the pink profusion of mountain laurel in full bloom–and I did.
I wanted to be surrounded in all that pink snow, to be enveloped by it.
As we were walking, we encountered the occasional flying insects–that’s what normally happens with a westerly wind. But as we walked deeper into the trail, the flies became almost swarm-like, getting into our hair, buzzing our ears.
After several minutes of this, our walk became a speed walk and then an eventual jog–halfway into the trail–do we turn around or venture further? Now we are running, avec water bottles, avec bouncing camera bag, avec flailing arms.
© Teresita Abad Doebley. All rights reserved 2009-2011.