The View From Here

Purple mountains behind a line of trees and a gently-sloping meadow
“The View From Here”, 8in x 8in, acrylic on canvas

The lion had followed us since breakfast. 

I thought it would have taken this trail anyway, and we happened to get ahead of it. You thought it was merely curious, or maybe wanted breakfast too.

Eventually it wandered off, losing interest in us. We were piqued at being given up so quickly. 

“Aren’t we good enough for a little stalking?”

“We’ve been snubbed by a mangy lion.”

What further insults did nature have in store for us? 

Not the birds, they couldn’t help themselves. All that chattering and fluttering about was simply how they spent their days, with or without us to bother. We endured their tiresome swooping as we hurried through their territory.

The insects were dreadful by design — adroit at avoiding our swatting, skilled at sneaking under clothing, and adept at endless biting in spite of our repeated slapping. They besieged us in swarms, naturally.

The wind snuck up, playing the trickster, and snatched off our hats, tossed dust in our eyes, and blew us off balance. You weren’t pleased. I was quite vexed.

The bubbling spring we were hoping to find was just a patch of weed-tangled mud that sucked off our shoes and threatened to pull us under if we didn’t leave it alone. Our water bottles went unfilled. 

The steep hill we climbed was covered in long flattened grass, slick with dampness, not a foothold to be found. After slipping to our knees again and again we finally crawled to the top — exhausted, wet, and fed up with the whole venture. 

Nature, in its way, had provided us with every reason to stay home. We gave that a long consideration.

Still, the view from here is lovely. Let’s come back soon.