Heat from the asphalt permeated the thick soles of my hiking boots and perspiration beaded on my brow as I walked from the town of San Juan de Teotihuacan to the ancient ruins of Teotihuacan. The owner of the inn where I was staying said it was a 15 minute walk, yet it had been 20 minutes since I set out and still there was no sign of the entrance, thus I started asking for assistance. One young man said the park was just a short distance ahead, while an elderly man shook his head and warned, “It’s three quarters of an hour more.” But there was no turning back now; at least I knew I was headed in the right direction.

Shedding my backpack to peel off my long sleeve shirt and tie it around my clammy waist, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. A herd of unattended sheep crossed the highway, scattering along the shoulder behind me in search of fresh grass. A bit further along, the smell of dead animal assaulted my nose, followed by the unmistakable odor of a chicken farm.

Suddenly, the bramble of bushes on my right gave way to a green pasture where a herd of gently baa-ing sheep floated like fluffy cotton balls. Their protector stood nearby, sheltering in the shade of a gnarled tree.

A pastoral scene on the walk to the Mayan ruins at Teotihuacan

“Buenas dias,” I greeted him. A gap-toothed smile flashed beneath his wide-brimmed straw hat as he returned my greeting.

“Puedo tomar una photo?” I asked. Can I take a photo?

“But I would break your camera, this old face is so ugly.”

I shook my head no. “Your face has character, like mine. And you have a radiant spirit.”

“Ah, this is because I live la vida tranquila – the tranquil life – the life of my sheep.”

Beaming, Gerardo beckoned me into his pasture. I found a gap in the chain link fence and followed him down as he told me about a baby ewe that he had been bottle-feeding. Its mother had been sick and wouldn’t graze, so she was not producing milk and refused to let the little one suckle.

The baby ewe pokes its head out of the clump of trees and comes to the sheep herder's call.

“Chica, ven aca,” he called. “Donde estas, chiquita?” Little girl, come here. Where are you, little one?

He continued calling as we walked toward a clump of trees and soon a tiny ewe poked its head out of the bushes and walked up to Gerardo. Snatching her up in his arms, he carried the ewe back to me. The baby Read the rest of this entry »

After a few housebound weeks in Illinois’ sub-freezing winter weather, a thirty-six degree day felt positively balmy. Although the weatherman called for yet another dreary, overcast day, no snow or freezing rain was forecast, so I seized the opportunity to visit the Morton Arboretum, a 1,700-acre park in the Chicago’s western suburbs.

Walking along the shores of a frozen lake at the Morton Arboretum

The Arboretum was established in 1922 by Joy Morton, who is best known as founder of the Morton Salt Company. Although Morton’s head was in the salt business, thanks to his father, J. Sterling Morton, who founded Arbor Day and served as Secretary of Agriculture under President Grover Cleveland, the younger Morton’s heart belonged to trees. “Plant Trees” was the Morton’s family motto. And plant they did, over many years creating a horticultural showcase on their private estate. At the age of 65, Morton began developing the property into an Arboretum, with the mission to “collect and study trees, shrubs, and other plants from around the world, to display them across naturally beautiful landscapes for people to study and enjoy, and to learn how to grow them in ways that enhance our environment.” Read the rest of this entry »

Seems I have a hard time staying in one place for very long. I am on the road again, headed for Chicago to attend two blogging conferences: BlogHer and TravelBlogExchange. As usual, I am wandering a bit. In Smyrna, Georgia (a suburb of Atlanta) I stopped to check out the Silver Comet Trail, the longest paved trail in the U.S. and one that is extremely popular with walkers, bikers, joggers, and roller bladers.

Portion of the trail west of the Concord Road access in Smyrna

The vision for this trail began in 1991, when a group of cycling buddies envisioned a network of off-road trails in and around Atlanta. Each of them had biked off-road trails in other cities and understood how they connected neighborhoods and encouraged healthier lifestyles. Determined to develop this same type of amenity for the Atlanta area, they convinced the Georgia Department of Transportation to purchase miles of abandoned railroad right-of-way for a potential commuter rail corridor and allow interim use as a trail. It was named the Silver Comet Trail in honor of the Silver Comet train, which had carried passengers along this route from 1947 to 1969. Read the rest of this entry »

I saw them before I heard them. On the distant horizon a line of tiny black specks appeared in the crystal blue sky. From their classic ‘V’ formation I knew they were Canada Geese. As I watched, thousands more rose from behind the distant treeline that marked the river, broke into smaller flocks, and circled to get their bearings. Wave after wave flew overhead, filling the sky with their dark silhouettes and the air with their strident, guttural honking.

Looking over the tall prairie grasses toward the Goose Lake Prairie visitors center.

It is nearly 4 p.m. and all around me the prairie grasses of Goose Lake Prairie State Natural Area are turning to burnished gold in the setting sun. I wonder why the geese have waited until the day’s end to take flight. Do they always travel after dark? Perhaps they fly at night so they can spend the day feeding. And why have they waited until January to head south? This seems late to me. Whatever the reason for their late migration, I am grateful to have been witness to this glorious sight. Read the rest of this entry »