Just a Bit Further

There have been times when I should have gone a bit further and didn't, and of course the converse as well. Because the walk to the first gate that leads on to the loch through mucky water and reeds had been easy and the weather amicable enough, I decided to go on a bit further and find the rough road on high ground leading to the loch. It was not much further--as is often the case--and I was rewarded with an easy walk closer to the edge of the loch.

The ducks had long since seen me coming and flown up and then over to another opening in the skim ice on the loch. The swans were only a speck on the horizon and so could easily ignore me. I stood leaning on the gate and heard only water, wind, and birds. I took this panorama shot to try to hint at the lovely open vistas, but it is only a hint.

If you look at the far right of the photo, you'll see a little cloud--up here that might be just a fit of pique that played itself out without ever reaching me. Or, it might be the tip of a weather front. In this case, that little cloud called up several of his fellow-travellers--all a bit surly--and they pelted me with tiny sharp teeth of snow.

I headed back and, prompted by the snow, reflected on the peculiar physics of walking just a bit further: it is even further going back. Because I had been focused--literally and metaphorically on catching some of the scenery with my camera, I had not noticed that my legs were tired as well as chilled and my hands were stiff with cold. Worse yet, the energy I needed to walk faster to get myself warm and home was nowhere to be found. I was not worried. It is an easy road home, but it was a reminder of what keeps me--and I suspect many of us-- from taking those steps further to discover the higher road--the leaden ache of effort.

Now home safe, warm and dry, I have sorted out photos--about half of those I took are worth keeping--and can tend to my aching muscles. In a few days I'll go again and explore what is just a few steps further.