A walk in the woods.

Here lately, my parents and I have been walking on the trails on our farm. Walking for our health, I suppose you could say.

You see, I really hate exercise. Several years ago I was walking on our treadmill regularly, and I despised it. I stared at the same spot on the window blinds for an hour (or 45 minutes or however long it was) and knew exactly how many songs I had to listen to on my iPod before I could stop.

I think it stems from P.E. class in elementary school and middle school. Sitting on the clammy floor as the teachers called roll, waiting to discover what form of torture they were going to inflict on us that day. Running laps around the cold gym and clutching at the stitch in my side (I always think of a Garfield comic strip, where Jon's going on a run and Garfield is napping. Jon asks him if he wants to come along. Garfield says, "Why are we running? Are people chasing us?" Then he waves his arms wildly in the air and says, "Are they carrying spears??" Jon rolls his eyes.) Attempting (key word there) push-ups for that stupid standardized physical fitness exam.

I did love Jump Rope for Heart. I was a jump-roping machine.

But this post is not about my scars from P.E. or my deep hatred for walking on a treadmill. :) It's about us walking in the woods.

One day when we walked last week, I took my camera along.

Mushrooms. Yum yum!

Just kidding, people. Please don't eat the mushrooms that grow in your yard.

Actually, I don't eat mushrooms, anyway. The texture creeps me out, and I can't get past the idea of eating fungi. {It might also have something to do with the poisonous mushroom in the Series of Unfortunate Events: The Grim Grotto that will kill you within one hour if you just breathe near the spores. Interestingly enough, even though I don't eat mushrooms, I like to look at them.}

I just think they look pretty. :)

The leaves with water standing in them are fairy watering holes.

I also like moss. And there is a lot moss in these woods. Every time we walk past an exceptionally pretty bunch of it, I think of how lovely it would look in a terrarium.

As we walk, my parents occasionally hit each other with their walking sticks.

{I told them that if I blogged about this, I would mention that fact. I don't think they believed me. By the way, this isn't as violent as it sounds- one of them, usually my mom, will accidentally bump the other with their stick, and then next thing you know it sounds like a forest sword fight. Robin Hood and all that...okay, so I might be exaggerating a bit.}

I pick up the rare brightly colored leaves and hope that fall is on its way (and I think it finally is!).

Sometimes I pretend I'm Katniss. Except I don't have any other Tributes after me. Thank goodness, because I'm not a good tree climber.

And I try to remember what my P.E. teachers used to tell me (my dad tells me, too): Breathe through your nose, not your mouth. I repeat this to myself all the way up the Hill of Doom.

It's only a slow, gradual incline, but for some reason I always struggle up it.

You can't really tell from the pictures, but this part of the woods always reminds me of Becoming Jane, when Jane is walking in the woods and stumbles onto Tom Lefroy.

In this part, just after the creek, the wet dirt and the roots make a natural staircase.

It's been several days since we walked last. Which means that next time, I will huff and puff all the way up the Hill of Doom.

Until next time,