My husband makes so much fun of my hippie throwback, tree hugging, one with the universe, groovy kind of love affair with nature. Don't get me wrong, he's very respectful of my free spirit. He walks with me down hiking trails, and even carries the backpack. He oohs and aahs at every photograph with enthusiastic interest -- even if it's nothing more than a tangled mess of tree roots. But sometimes his humorous observations of me are so true that even I can't help but double over in hysterics.
A few weeks ago, we spent an evening laying back in the Adirondack chairs, admiring the Spring growth in the forest all around us. I had forgotten that the previously mentioned growth includes the wide wonderful world of insects, but they didn't mind reminding me. As a persistent bee swung in and out of my personal space, I bobbed and dodged and eventually fled the scene. Once the coast was clear and I returned to my recline, a little green worm dropped out of some low hanging branches and landed in my lap, causing me to jump up once again.
I had spent the better part of a half an hour swatting and shooing and bobbing and weaving, while Hubsy just looked on from his laid back chair. Finally he stood and opened the door for me, chuckling and asking ... "are you done loving the nature yet?"
A couple of days ago, we went for a nice walk in the woods on a warm, sunny day. As my feet moseyed along my eyes jumped from the top of the tall pines, to the geese that migrated by, to the underbrush from which echoed the flute like call of a blue jay. Butterflies fluttered past and petals dropped from tree limbs onto the path before us. Every so often Mother Nature's heavy perfume drifted on the breeze and swirled all around me. I was deeply soul stirred by the experience, and inspired to discover the origin of that scent. As we walked on, I stopped to sniff at various leaves on trees, bushes, wild flowers on the ground, to no avail. And then the fragrance would swirl again. I was so frustrated by not being able to locate this glorious scent that has captivated me, and yet I was so captivated, I stopped in my spot, stomped a foot, and erupted with a truly heart felt "Son-of-a-Bitch." Well Hubsy stopped as well, and looked back to see what had gone wrong. Had I been bitten? Had I tripped? Was I in pain of some sort? No. "It smells so freaking good!", (but I didn't say freaking).
Well Hubsy began to chuckle again. He took a few steps back to where I stood, and put his arm around my shoulder, and gently encouraged me to continue walking down the path towards home. "I thought you loved nature." he commented. "I do." I responded. He laughed, "But you're cursing at it." Yes I did. I just couldn't take it, in that one momentary instant of time I couldn't find a better way to express the intensity of my emotion, and that's how it came out. "I love the way you love nature" he said ... so angrily."
And just in case you're really interested, it turned out to be pockets of jasmine sporadically vining along the path, hidden amongst all the other new shoots. A treasure worth hunting for, dammit!