By Katie Tallo
This morning I took a leisurely walk through my favourite arboretum. I couldn’t seem to work myself up to a good stride or break into a run. My pace was deliberately slow.
The arboretum is an emerald oasis where the sun filters through each tree in a different way.
The park was abuzz with a million cicadas hidden in the shadowy dancing light surrounding swampy ponds, freshly cut lawns and a shimmering lake. Some of the trees are over 120 years old – enormous old broads, their bark deeply ridged by gravity, time, weather and shifting soil.
I walked slowly because it seemed necessary to feel the park, to hear it, to bear witness to the small gray pebbles at the path’s edge that used to consume my attention for hours when I was a child – to... More...
