Living on an island with the word Spring in the name has to count for something.
I have been restless of soul and spirit in the past couple of weeks. So much so that I have opted to relieve the inner tensions of my antsy self by walking down the hill from my cabin to town just about every afternoon this week. It does not take long, it is downhill after all and just as heading south seems easier and downward my step is probably faster while viewing things from above the decent. Coming home is another story and is an unrelenting term of upwardness with a torturous last hill known locally as the ‘big dip’.
On my daily trek to the village with at least one errand on the list, and the necessary stop in at Barb’s Bistro for a hot cup with my book, I mused. With little sleep and the irrational desire to leave home each day to walk, walk and walk some more I wondered aloud to the eagle that swooped over my head to land with gingerly grace at the top of a Fir. I wondered if I was a bear. It made sense.
I have been drowsy since November and my recent restlessness surely a sign that the tickling fingers of Spring are seeking firmer ground to grasp. I am the bear wishing to leave the cave, sleepy, cranky and tired but with a trickle of renewal in my veins. With a spring-like day forecast for at least the first part of the weekend I will dust off my hiking boots, or kayak paddle and leave my cave once more in hopes that somewhere along the trek my purpose will find firmer ground to grasp as well.