Instead, I grabbed my camera for a quick hike to the top of my mountain.
Trust me, it is no mountain. Just a nearby hill I can see out my bedroom window. I call it my mountain when I see it there. It's called Chestnut Ridge, and it's the perfect place to spend an autumn afternoon.
I'm not sure that my still-ailing knee approved of the adventure, but I was determined to go anyway. I'd go slow, I told myself. I'd only go to the overlook, then turn around, I said.
But there were things to keep pulling me on. If I just go a little farther, I can see the pretty meadow, is what I said to myself.
Around the next curve is that far off view of the nearby hills.
And on I went, of course. Maybe over here I'll see those charming white squirrels.
Soon I had whiled away several hours on my gentle hike through the woods. I wasn't tired, and my knee wasn't sore, but my heart was full. You know you are in a lovely place when you often sigh in contentment.
Those perfect fall days will do it to me every time.
