So I've been seeing a lot of interesting things on my runs lately through the hills and valleys around my house. The problem is I don't run with my camera and so the scenes that pass me by and visions that take my breath away, I can not capture for all of you. Let me paint you a picture from yesterday's run.
I ran to the lake that is about 3Km away from my house and then ran around the lake to take in all the sights, smells and greet the fishermen hanging out on the shore... waiting for the days catch. As I rounded the end of the lake and made it to the other side where the little villas are all stacked on top of each other (like a Moldovan gated community)... the geese run from my path, roosters perk there heads and crow at me, men stare and skip a puff of their cigarette - shocked by my spandex shorts and I smile and wave (stupid American). Then I see this red car slowly making it's way down the road. It stops abruptly and I wonder if its overflowing with teenage boys up to no good or an old man who missed the clutch. Then as the car and I approach each other the abrupt halt is clear. In the drivers seat is a young girl wearing bright shorts and a tank top with curly blond hair and blue eyes. With a look of worry in her eyes. In the passenger seat is an older man with white hair, wrinkled and worn tan skin wearing a linen short sleeve dress shirt. He is thin except for his large belly that juts out in front like a pregnant lady. I smile and wave. And as they pass by me I stop and turn to watch the old man continue lecturing the young girl and helping her shift the lada into a lower gear. Surround the dirt road are fields of sunflowers, corn and grass, willow trees, a lake in the distance and few country homes. As I watch them slowly drive off into the distance the whole scene changes. It's no longer an old Russian red lada but an orange Volkswagen beetle. The young girl is me 15 years ago. We aren't on a road but a path along the hedgerow in an alfalfa field that my dad has just cut with the mower. The man to my right is my grandfather, Norman and he's not lecturing but rather watching me try to figure it all out myself. He then gives me pointers when I look up at him with earnest blue eyes and my pin straight bobbed blond hair. He's telling me how different is to drive a car than a tractor and how much more efficient a standard or stick shift car is than automatic. Once we reach the path in the woods we park and walk through the woods. He points to a jack-in-the-pulpit and tells me these flowers are endangered and shows me the protective shield he made for the frosts. We then walk further into the woods where he has planted blue spruce and evergreen trees of every sort. He says one day we can use them for our Christmas tree. Then I snap out of my trip down memory lane. Watch the red lada drive down towards the lake and I turn and continue my jog up and out of the valley back to my village.
I miss my grampa. He was truly an altruistic man. I just wish I could converse with him now. About the world today... my life... my thoughts on various topics. He continues to influence my decisions and ideas so in a way I guess he lives on through me.