Crickets leaping round our feet. A butterfly at the rim of my hat. Burrs on our socks. Smells of fern and pine. The rhythmic rasp of the cicadas. And, ranged around us, a never-ending green. Cypress and cedar. Peaks and parched pastures. The combed vineyards and the dark oak thickets. Moving through it all, feeling right inside it, sticky with it even. Like any other animal. This is what we love and why we do these summer walks.
