The Temple of My Redemption

It has been nearly three days since I have walked along the river and I am in need of its beauty. It is the place I call the temple of my redemption, a holy place not made of stone or brick, door and walls unnecessary; a place of meditation enshrined by nature. The river has become the place I go to seek solace, to question and understand my journey. Willa and Henry, my wonderful dogs, accompany me. Through all seasons and types of weather I walk, for there is always a new discovery. In Spring I have trailed the Great Blue Heron and watched juvenile eagles watching me. In Summer, when heat and humidity are unbearable, I walk in early morning or late evening. Autumn, of course is spectacular and my favorite time of year. The colors of the river I liken to an artists palette; one which has been painted upon through the course of time, worn through and used by the Master in misery and delight to convey emotions to the quiet observer. Autumn is the season which marks the passing of my time, it is the season I loath to see end. Walking in Winter is perhaps the most amazing; a world in hibernation and the best time for personal reflection. All is still and quiet, everything in its dormancy is beautiful. The trees, mere naked silhouettes, stand proudly, bent and twisted for all to see. Frozen pockets of river water in layers, like cross sections of rose quartz, line the trail. Winter is the time when seagulls come by the hundreds to vie with ducks and geese for food; it is a time of wondrous serenity. The river has become my sanctuary, walking my ritual. 

Three days have passed since I have been there and I am in need of its beauty.