When I exited the shelter of my home away from home I sought allurement in the landscape but found none. Grey was too descriptive for the dreary sky. Brown crunchy leaves littered the forest floor. The cold air seemed more frigid with every step. Rain saturated my bones as soon as the drops permeated the fibers of my running shirt. The atmosphere of the woods was, at best, reserved.
Perhaps, it was my persistence, ignoring the cold-shoulder nature had given me, to run past the trunks of the oak trees? Maybe, I brought the drab oaks out of their depression with my colorful attire? Whatever the reason, just before I reached the end of driveway, the oaks revealed their secret.
I crested the hill keeping my eyes downcast to avoid traipsing through the streams and pools of water collecting on the well-sealed black-top driveway. My Merrel pace gloves would not safeguard against the near-freezing puddles, so I had to strategically place my steps to minimize uptake of the water. I was scrutinizing the driveway and making notes when I saw it. My breath caught in my throat.
Whenever I looked up I saw lackluster scenery, but, downward, the driveway held 1/4 mile long glittery exposition fashioned from soddened trees reflecting in the rain pools. Above ground everything was drab and colorless while the pools shone stark contrasts of silver and black. The reflections faded then cleared indicating precisely where I should step or should not step.
I followed along side of the oaks’ reflections marveling at the beautiful sight and thought how lucky I was to need to stare at the ground that day.