little treasures

 "To stop or not to stop?" My feet and head couldn't come to an agreement. Usually my feet are in charge of my daily brisk morning walk, a habit I have developed since I stopped taking a train and drive to school instead. The recent walks in a quiet morning neighbourhood of small houses and fall coloured trees have been lovely. Yesterday, after about ten minutes of walking, I turned a corner of a street and almost stepped on a shiny brown horse-chestnut on the ground. 

I took the next step and one more, spotting a horse-chestnut after another, and suddenly a little thought in my head shouted for a stop. I already had one smooth gem in my pocket from a previous walk, and now I picked up one more to keep the first one company. My feet were ready to move on, so I listened. 

Before I got back to my rhythm, before I had past the first tree in the row of five, the thought demanded attention again. The road was covered with fresh horse-chestnuts as if they had rained down over night. It seemed so wrong to leave them there. It seemed strange to start picking them. My brain, completely confused now, couldn't send clear signals to my body. I took a step forward and a step back, step forward and a step back, step forward and a step back. Realising that my indecisive movement must have looked ridiculous to anyone who might have looked out from their window, my feet chose to listen to the head. 

I used both hands to pick the conkers and stuffed them in my coat pockets not minding that now I had funny bumpy lumpy hips. My pockets full and the head happy, my feet carried me back to school. The head hadn't stopped working though. It came up with an idea. The nature's gifts would make a great invitation for a quick write. With head and feet in harmony, my heart felt light and happy. 

A photo from today's morning walk.