We are still a woman and a dog walking in Washington Grove. We are farther down the path. Around the bend.
I am looking ahead. Tessa is still air-sniffing and not-so-much looking ahead.
All along this path, filtering in among the light and the almost imperceptible wind, I have felt such serenity. How, in what really is a city neighborhood, can this place, Washington Grove, exist?
To me, it feels like sacred space.
And, there, in the trees just up the path, is a dancing orange light that is bright enough to attract my attention yet isn’t clear enough to be defined. With just a heightened sense of “what is it?” we keep walking towards it.
Such a blaze of yellows and oranges that turns out to be the changing colors of low-to-the-ground shrubs and bushes; the underbelly of the grove. Still. It signaled that there might be Something More.
And, so there was!