We went hiking up Flat Top, and man, were my hips feeling it by the time I brushed my teeth. It was a nice hike, a perfect misty early morning that felt like something out of the Lord of the Rings. The forest was shrouded in just the right diffused light to let me imagine elves everywhere. The newt and flowers were bonus, and of course there was a beautiful weird mushroom.
Six miles.
Four hours.
And then writing.
Hiking is good for my soul.
Also, I apparently have a deep fondness for newts. Harvey did some research after the hike and told me that the orange ones we saw are babies, that they will be green when they grow up and will live in water.
I wanted to go back and get one and bring it home with me. This is not a usual response on my part, and i am still vaguely discomforted by the whole thing, which is made all the worse by persisting. Yes. I want to go back and get a newt. From its natural habitat. For no good reason. I hope this will pass relatively quickly, for the newt's sake as well as for my own.