Trying to jot down the last three months of morning walk/runs in a journal, it occurred that I had already accounted for a season’s worth of my early hours on Twitter. Here it is in journal form, although I know many of you followed along….

April 10
Some walks are better than others. The view from the walk 10 minutes up the road:

 

April 28
Past the cemetery. After the smoke bush. Beyond the point where you turn down your iPod & listen for rattlers. At the palo verde. ‪Meet you there.

 

May 1
AM jog in the clouds, story ideas thrumming, music swelling, kite ascends from beneath a bluff, halting to hover above me, perfection. ‪

 

May 2
Jogged home with a fist full of wild white sage, leaves turned silver-side w/ dew, thinking all good things in California smell like this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 10
Walking this AM, the dog and I paused to put the moon to bed…

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 15
Wish wildflower season lasted all year… #californiachaparral

 

May 16
Tempting, but picking Jimson weed on the morning run is probably ill-advised…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 22
That moment when you look up and thank the dog for nudging you out of bed and dragging you up the hill.

 

May 25
Last kiss of spring rain drawn in by the chaparral and exhaled smelling of iron, citrus, licorice and gratitude. ‪#morningrun

 

May 27
Oh, tempestuous, achingly changeable May. You and September are my favorite months. #MonthsofFey

 

May 28
A silent rattlesnake beneath a gumtree thrumming with bees. Today feels dangerous. Be careful out there, lovelies!

May 30
Just a girl and her dog.

 June 6
How exactly is it that they know I’ll probably feed them? #waitingoutsidemywindow

 

June 12
Bear foot and likely looking for a way into to the honey.

 

June 14
One of those mornings when the universe says, “Quit chasing hawks. Now, follow the ravens into the wilderness…”

 

June 17
The bee yard that is the halfway mark on my jog was empty of hives, making me wonder if I wasted my Spring. #seasonschange

 

June 18
Cabbage moths and Jimson weed, flaring white. Faded memories, crystallizing under the strengthening nearly-summer sun. ‪

 

 

 

 

June 19
The foreign lines of a native bee discovered at the center of an evening primrose make me feel that I belong here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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And so on to Summer. May it be as beautiful and treacherous and full of possibilities as the Spring.

xx -R