I’d already decided I wasn’t going to be motivated, hours before John’s suggestion. I woke up on Monday feeling ill, reluctant to do much except lay around in my pajamas well into the morning. But somehow, with a smile and a wink, John convinced me that we should take a family hike on this unofficial last weekend of summer. So we did.
Cholula bounded through drying grasses, leaping into the air and diving on imaginary prey like a snow fox. The sky was clear of clouds, though a breeze blew over our skin at the ideal temperature. We wove in and out of fluttering aspen trees, surprised by the many reddening oaks warming up our view. Glorious late-summer wildflowers, including at least 1,000 yellow versions of a daisy, lined the tacky trail. We stepped over mushrooms of all sizes and shapes. It became impossible to smile, and I felt ready to welcome autumn and all of the beauty that it brings. Once again, I was reminded that fresh air and movement through the trees are the remedy for any day with a rocky start. My wise husband knew I’d come around.
One year ago: An ill-fated camping trip near Logan, Utah.