what might happen?
I had the thought that bare feet, scattered black walnuts, Henny on a cord, and a stroll downhill might be a risky endeavor.
“Go slow,” I advised the fourleg.
She complied and still my left foot found a walnut. Down I went. Henny charged, thinking I wanted to play.
What could I do besides laugh through the pain?
I’d sensed the risk and taken the steps any way.
I’m working on a story about ceding personal responsibility… and how that makes us feel less accountable.
What does life look like when we own the walnuts we step on? And allow others to do the same?
Ouch! Hope you're OK, Gail. It's nice to see you back in action here, and I look forward to your story on personal accountability.
Reminds me of one of my brighter moves. After planting two black walnut trees many years ago, the first crop was a grand sight! Lots of those green-husked, firm newbies. I set about removing those green covers, and in the process saturated the skin of both hands with the green liquid.
“Don’t try this at home,” is my advice today. It removed layer upon layer of my skin! Washing my hands released more skin than I knew I could spare.
As for ceding personal responsibility, when I stood at the bathroom mirror the next morning there was no doubt. The guy in the mirror! Examining my pink, smooth-as-a-baby’s bottom hands, it was painfully obvious!
Thanks for the memories Gail.