I’ve spent a lot of time in Florida. My Nana loves Disney World and would take my cousin and I there every few years or so. I don’t feel much of a need to go back to Florida…except to visit Three Sisters Springs. Earlier this week, the park had to close because hundreds of manatees were crowding around the warm springs. (I wish I was close enough to just sneak into the park, because that seems like the perfect time to visit.) I ❤ Manatees! Kayaking and snorkeling with these guys is basically my Happy Place!
Every year I start to get an urge to write about how much I love autumn. Frankly, I feel stupider for it… Of course I love autumn. I live in New England. I like sweaters and boots and crunchy leaves under my feet. I love walking in the woods without being swarmed by bugs, or having to balance my need to be cool with my need to protect my body parts from things that bite. I love apples and I loooooooove cinnamon… I even kind of like raking. (mostly because my yard isn’t that big, and I don’t have to bag my leaves because the town comes and picks them up).
I don’t always love the garden cleanup — it’s a little depressing and messy — but that’s OK…because this:
I started reading Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail earlier this week, and it’s got me thinking about what it really means to be a “hiker.” It seems to me that lately everyone thinks they’re one, including me — but most of us are not.
Earlier this spring I hit the internet and started researching hiking shoes after I slipped on a few rocks in the woods, and anytime I purchase an accessory for an activity it means I’m truly invested. So I started looking into more local trails. There are tons of options, but as you might imagine, wilderness in Connecticut is not always easy to come by and I have a new rule: if you see a stroller or a child under the age of 8 on a trail, it’s not hiking, it’s just a walk. Continue reading