The March Wind Doth Blow

A couple of days ago I took a walk in our neighborhood, such as it is...

and the sights and sounds were incredible.
I would say I was intrigued by them, but I think I was more enchanted.

It was such a windy day, yet warm and sunny.  In the late afternoon my husband and I took a walk down the road.  It's only a matter of time now, and the mosquitoes and ticks will be sharing the world with us.  This time between dodging snow and swatting insects, between snowshoes and flipflops, is the best time for walking - as long as you can avoid the mud.
You can pretty much walk in the middle of the road here.  We are in a small association, so there are no cars going through and you may or may not run into a neighbor walking their dog.  We saw no one.  Which is nice.  We could concentrate on just taking it all in as we walked.
I have to say, I'm not much of a walker any more.  I have a few hitches and glitches that make it uncomfortable at times, so I mostly meander.  You are not going to get your heart rate up there if you're my walking buddy.  But my husband was patient and we strolled and stretched our way down the road.  It's a banner day.  I hadn't walked this far in ages with him.  I was cringing a bit though, wondering if he would have to go get the car to fetch me home again!
On our way though, my attention was taken off my aches and pains and the distance, as we watched the giant pines swaying and swishing in the wind, and listened to the bare oaks rattling their branches and threatening to break - some actually sending brittle limbs crashing down to the ground.
Our ears caught the happy sounds of a springtime rill heading downhill to the river.  As the clear water leaped over rocks, twigs and brown leaves, I dismissed the thought of how each step away from the house was another one to return.
We strolled on to the end of the cul-de-sac, the beginning of the trip back.
I bent to stretch my back and ease the cramps protesting the length of the walk.  I started to think about the long walk back.  The car was sounding good, but I shook off the feeling, straightened up and walked on toward home.
Over the howl of the wind, the unmistakable screech of a red-tailed hawk gave warning to creatures below.  It's haunting, lingering screech was more chilling than the wind.  We couldn't see him past the tall trees, but his presence was clear.  I wouldn't have wanted to be a mouse or squirrel right then, for although we couldn't see him, I'm sure he would have seen us.  I had no doubt that if I were a small animal with a sore back, I'd have still darted and jumped and scuttled under a rock to escape the piercing eyes of that hunter.
As we retraced our steps, I felt the wind now at our backs, pushing us homeward.  Perhaps it knew I was tired and needed the boost?  Leaves skittered, popped and rolled along behind us, and then overtook us, laughing at us slowpokes as they tumbled past.
They may think they won the race.  But I've heard "Slow and steady wins the race."  I think I won.
But I hope I can walk tomorrow!