Pandemic Essay
Take a Walk
During this “isolation” time, a daily walk in nature has brought me so much calm.
My heart goes out to all of the people stuck inside small apartments in New York right now. It also goes out to my mother, who is isolating in her room in a nursing home in Minnesota, unable to even step outside for a breath of fresh air. I don’t know how I would have been able to deal with these last few weeks if I hadn’t been able to get outside for a daily walk.
The spring rains this year have alternated between soft and drizzly mists and ferocious downpours. But they have been abundant. And the earth has responded with a burst of wildflowers.
Most days, I hike up the hill at the end of my street to a horse trail which winds its way down to down to our local Peter’s Canyon. The parking lot for Peter’s Canyon has been closed to the public for weeks now and the neighborhood area where people often park to avoid the fees has been plastered with “no parking — will be towed” signs to keep non-locals out to avoid over-crowding. But those of us who live here have still been allowed to hike, bike, and run here as long as we maintain social distancing.
As a result, there are so many fewer people on the trails. And the animals are aware of it. While there are always hawks circling overhead, crows in the treetops, and signs of coyotes and the occasional mountain lion (droppings and remains of “meals”) most of the creatures who live here stay a bit off of the trail during the daytime. The other day though, I encountered a red squirrel perched on a wooden fence. He eyed me boldly until I was just a couple of feet in front of him, curious (I think) about my phone, with which I was trying to take his picture.
And a garter snake slithered across the trail right in front of me.
Two roadrunners strolled down the middle of the empty street near the park entrance.
And the frogs living in the creek seem louder too these days. I always enjoy a particular spot on the trail where the trees and underbrush are dense and cast dappled shadows over the soft sand. The creek turns into a small swamp there and at twilight the frogs begin their chorus. Lately, they have been singing a full-on concerto!
The native California poppies are beginning to explode from the grasses.
And the prickly pear are beginning to blossom.
And the treat at the turn-around point is the view of the reservoir, brimming with water and wildlife this year.
Even if you can’t get out into nature right now, I hope that these glimpses of spring in southern California bring you a moment or two of happiness. This time shall pass and we will all be able to get out on the trails again soon. I hope to see you there! And if you’d like to share a photo or two from your daily walk in the comments, I’d love to see!
Erika Burkhalter is a yogi, neurophilosopher, cat-mom, photographer, and lover of travel and nature, spreading her love and amazement for Mother Earth’s glories, one photo, poem or story at a time. (MS Neuropsychology, MA Yoga Studies). Erika is also an editor for Dharma Talk.
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Photo, poem and story ©Erika Burkhalter. All rights reserved.
