Walking By Inquiry

The school I attend would never admit to having lower level courses. We don't rarely put with introductory classes, and seldom is anything save foreign language beginners. Grades bellow 'D' do not exist, and obtaining a 'D' will see you sent home. In a school so concerned about greatness and prestige, our lower courses receive the suffix of 'by Inquiry'.

When I was a girl, or at least, a younger girl, I often walk, or ran, or skipped, through the 70 acres my parents owned. I picked wild flowers in frumpy garbage bags, scrambled up trees, and splashed about our small creek in midwinter. As a child one can do such things, and not consider themselves any kind of naturalist.

As I got older, and grew into those nostalgic middle school years, it seemed the very world was my enemy, and my fields and creeks were no longer available anyhow. But as I age, and with every year, I grow back into that young girl. It takes more effort now, its a conscious decision, but its coming home.

This is my blog, this is my walking journal. This is me strolling back through the woods, following the echo of a child's laughter, that still reverberates off the trees. This is Walking, by Inquiry.

Would you care to join me?