My Winter Africa

The sun shines passionately this afternoon, a rarity in this cold winter. I remove my shoes and socks and let the sun warm the soles of my feet.  It is a gift, this warmth, this freedom my normally-bundled feet experience.

I decide to take a walk on the grass. It is winter's grass - dry and yellow - and sharp against my softened soles.  A hundred thousand nerve endings scream in joyful protest - "Stop! (But no...) Keep going!" - for even they know what a precious gift this afternoon is.  They soldier through the prickly grass and in a moment are desensitised and able to walk more firmly.

Pause. Notice. Breathe. Be fully present to the moment, let your senses soak in all the stimuli. I take several photos and try to capture the moment, knowing it is futile. Can you capture the sun dancing on the water's surface in a million pirouettes? Can you record the sound of nature's symphony, the various movements and story lines? Can you bottle up the smell of the afternoon breeze that stirs up fallen bird feathers -  ethereal, downy wisps that float by gracefully?

The sun will soon set, taking this gift of warmth with her. The ducks seem to know this and play frenetically in the water - diving here, chasing there, skimming the water's surface in choreographed artistry. Oh, to be able to understand it! - and yet, I need not understand to appreciate the beauty. Indeed, the fleetingness of the moment begs my attention and respect.

 I walk back slowly, listening to my bare feet which have joined in the music and added their rhythm with every step - "I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive!"