Sure – a brisk walk may be more advantageous than a leisurely one for physical health, but sometimes a leisurely walk is better for mental health. You might even learn things – or at least find something to wonder about.

During a recent trip to Nashville [ask about our new grandbaby!], I often took advantage of a nearby walking trail, part of the Smyrna Greenway System.

One sunny Sunday afternoon five of us decided to hit the trail, which lent itself to what I would call a conversation walk.

I love conversation walks. You’re not just sitting and talking; you feel like you’re accomplishing something. You’re going somewhere, even if when you get there you turn around and come back. It takes little physical energy and even less mental energy.

Walking in a group also give us a chance to wonder out loud.

About Horse Apples, for instance…

“What are those big green round bumpy things?”

“I think they’re called horse apples.”

“Why do they call them horse apples? Is it because horses eat them?”

“Are they edible? Why do we see them on the ground all over the place, but rarely in the trees above?”

…Disc Golf…

As we strolled into the more open spaces of the trail, we noticed a strange-looking metal pole about five feet tall. Metal chains hanging from the top gathered above an open iron basket.

Signs along the way indicated this was an area designated for disc golf. Sure enough, we saw some golfers flinging Frisbees not only into the open spaces but through narrow forest corridors.

More questions.

I understood the baskets – they catch the Frisbees. But what are the chains for? If you throw the Frisbee into the chains, do you get more points? How big is the course?

Is it like throwing horseshoes? The closest one to the target wins? Or do you have to keep trying until you get it into the basket, just like “regular” golf?

…and a Red Caterpillar

We also came across a fat hairy reddish caterpillar crawling across the path. I don’t remember seeing a red caterpillar before – is that a color stage they all go through? [Duh. No.] Do certain types of butterflies come from different colors of caterpillars? [Yes, unless they’re moths.] Are they like squirrels – different colors in different parts of the country? [It’s an insect. My eyes start crossing when I get into too much bug research.]

The Cure for Temporary Ignorance

These questions may indicate that up until now, I haven’t been curious enough.

You know what, though? That’s okay!  Because “at my age,” I’m beyond caring that I may sound ignorant. How will you know if you don’t ask – or at least Google it?

So this is my suggestion to you. Sure – walk for exercise. But even if you walk the same route every day, walk also for the discoveries you make along the way. Look up to see if you can find horse apples on the trees or – better yet – to find the source of a bird’s song. Look into the distance to catch a fleeting sunset – or to watch out for flying Frisbees.

Go ahead and look down, too. You may spot a caterpillar, just trying to survive until it morphs into a butterfly – or a moth – and can fly into the sky.

Answers?

No room here for the answers to my questions, except to tell you that horse apples are AKA hedge apples and osage oranges.

For more about disc golf, check out the Professional Disc Golf Association.

And caterpillars? Too many varieties for a simple answer, but I did find some pictures of some very colorful specimens: The Top 10 Most Beautiful Caterpillars.

Talk to me. What discoveries have you made on recent walks? When was the last time you engaged in a significant walk conversation?

If the first hailstorm hasn’t ruined a farmer’s corn crop in southwest Nebraska this summer, the second, third, or fourth one has. At the end of June, an evening of golf-ball sized hail was followed the next day by winds reported to be blowing at more than ninety miles an hour. Needless to say, our little town is sporting a lot of new roofs.

On the 17^th of July, at 12:04 p.m., I captured some of the severity of one of those storms with my little digital camera.  A mere 20 minutes later, noticing how distinct the shadows were on the ground, I pointed the camera toward the sky – and saw nothing but blue and cotton white.

July 17, 12:04 p.m. from Cheryl Bryan on Vimeo.

July 17, 12:24:58 p.m.

For all the severity of the wind and noise and huddles of hailstones it left behind, once the storm had passed, the crispness of the air and clarity of the shadows gave me an odd exhilaration, caused a little, I suspect, by relief that the storm was over.

Though the storm passed quickly, it left permanent damage: branches and leaves torn from the trees, tomato plants that will never produce, a dented car hood that will test our willingness to pay an insurance deductible for body work.

We picked up the debris, thankful that the trees still standing will produce new growth. We mourned the damage to the garden, hoping summer will be long enough for it to recover.

And so it is with life’s little squalls – the sudden fast-moving storms of commotion or confusion that pass through our ordered lives. They may not destroy us, as a larger storm might. Nonetheless they leave their marks, maybe in physical weakness, damaged ego, or blighted friendship.

So we must take the time to clean up the mess they leave behind: Repair what we can and adapt to the rest.

And when we see the next squall approaching, we can face it with confidence, because we know eventually the clouds will clear, revealing the blue sky and the sun, the source of light that, though concealed, was there all along.

We’ll know the clarity and new wisdom that come only on the other side of the storm.

Last Sunday’s Nature program on our PBS station interested me for two reasons:

1. It was entitled Sharkland and was going to expand my recent inexplicable fascination with basking sharks; and
2. It was filmed in the oceans around the tip of South Africa, which still occupies a good portion of my heart. (We lived in Cape Town for 18 months, Johannesburg for 10 years).

With 400 species of sharks in the world (who knew?), the basking shark received only honorable mention on the program. My guess is he’s too tame – toothless and a harmless predator, unless you happen to be plankton.

Food Chain of the Sea

The program wasn’t limited to sharks. It also filmed Cape gannets eating so many fish they couldn’t fly, which allowed them to be swallowed by fur seals, some of whom have learned that the bird comes garnished with a stomach full of fish. The seals are then hunted down by the great white shark, the top of that particular food chain.

Surprising Predator

You’ve heard of the sting-y Portuguese man-of-war, right?  It looks like a jelly fish, but even washed dead upon the beach, its long tentacles can deliver poison that can cause your skin to sting, burn and turn red at the very least, and for those susceptible to it, cause difficulty with breathing and even cardiac arrest.

But do you know who can crawl right up to this man-of-war and devour it without hesitation?

A snail! That’s right – a snail!

Sometimes it’s called a plough snail, because

1. It burrows into the sand to avoid being either washed out to sea or stranded on higher ground and
2. It lives in Southern Africa and that’s the way they spell plow.

They also call it a “surfing snail” because it uses its large fleshy foot to surf up the beach to find its prey stranded or washed up on the shore. I did find this “Vodpod” (filmed in Knysna, South Africa) that shows the little suckers in action. BE WARNED: Although they’re cute at first, watching them dine is not for the squeamish.

NOTE to Professional Bloggers:

I know, I know. This is not exactly in my “niche,” but I am making it so. That’s why my web address includes not only the word aging but also wonder, as in discovery, as in being in awe of the world and of the people in it. We live on an amazing planet.

I do not praise evolution for our planet’s wondrous existence. The theory of evolution is just too serious for this level of humor.