Everything was so new it glistened

At night I walk the hills under the moon which has been growing near full. It is last harvest moon, it peaked today around 4pm here, and when there is no rain I’ve been discovering the way the moon makes the air and the hills and the nighttime sky here all the same kind of muted-out white.
It brings me great joy to go walking, how everything in the night is so very still. On facebook I see people back home in bikinis on the beach, and I think that is true, last year summer lasted til October. But here it is turning fall—even today in the high sun working outside on the farm getting hot it still felt like weather meant for turning days.

The season is passing, it is a good time for me to be bringing a harvest in. Last night Mo and Jon and I sat on the back deck of the cabin and I led us in a meditation. We reviewed our year, looking within at all we’ve grown. When I first got here in August I was elated, everything was so new it glistened and I just walked around with a glow. Now with both car crashes behind me and my reality being so stunned, I am more grounded, not low so much as simple, on my feet. Like a colt. Sort of learning. Sure she can stand but conscious about the way her feet might go.

My favorite part of the hills is when they’re spread out with valleys on either side. I stand in the middle on the flat long stretch and look at all that land raising and falling in a great circle around me. The land folds in all different black shades at night like an uphill-going ocean caught in a ripple and painted in time. And the moon is there to say I’m part of this artwork, too.

I go walking because it is good for me but more I realized tonight because it is a way of moving but still staying still. They aren’t power walks and not even, at night anyway, jogs. It’s just me, alone sometimes or sometimes with friends. Being quiet, exploring new ground.